


The Alphabet According to Arthur

by slashmania



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: 26 prompts, Alphabet, Humor, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are 26 letters in the alphabet. Each letter stands for a word, and each word references a story as to how Arthur feels about his Forger. Somewhere in the letters A through Z, Arthur can surely find a way to express himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Alphabet According to Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9605798/1/The-Alphabet-According-to-Arthur

The Alphabet According to Arthur

_A is for Absent_

It would take much for Arthur to admit to being worried when Eames wasn't present at one of their secret meeting places for dream work.

He had tried many times to put the feeling in the neatly labeled box of 'Concerns as a Point Man'.

It was his job to be certain that all of his team members were safe. That they were not ambushed, tracked, hunted, and subsequently killed for the jobs they took part in and the information they stole.

Eames was naturally good at being late. It wasn't unusual for the Forger to appear as a meeting was just beginning, interrupting a presentation that Arthur had spent the night and early morning perfecting. He'd sit down with smiling gray eyes, immune to the glare that Arthur would send his way before picking up where he left off smoothly and efficiently.

Though he was quiet, his poorly chosen shirts positively _screamed_ at Arthur who had to eventually avert his eyes because the too bright colors made them burn.

But on the days that the Forger would take too long to make even a very _very_ late appearance Arthur would feel the worry begin to gnaw away at him- his fingertips itched to do a search on his laptop, to pick up his cell phone and call the other man, or to check to see if Eames was just waiting at the closed door of their hideaway, counting tiles on the ceiling of the hallway, waiting for Arthur or someone else to check and see if he was on his way.

When Eames was absent it drove Arthur to place the feelings that the very lack of the Forger's presence gave him into a different box.

As of yet it didn't have a label, but then Arthur's relationship with the man didn't quite have a label either.

Were they just coworkers? Were they members of the same team- both there only because they were the best in their fields? Did they clash against one another out of true dislike, or was it something a little different?

Arthur didn't like not having a true name for this feeling, this worry that arose deep inside of him, sitting in his stomach like a stone, making the man count the minutes until Eames finally arrived.

In the Point Man's world, names and definitions gave it shape and context. Names offered boundaries. And the very thought that he had no boundaries with Eames (mainly because the man ignored the ones that Arthur maintained) always gave Arthur a strange feeling that was at once pleasurable and terrifying.

Now, as he stopped stalling and finally opened up his file folder for their latest mark, Eames chose to appear.

Wearing the loudest gaudiest shirt imaginable the Forger actually appeared to be surprised that he had not interrupted any talk of work. Every eye turned to focus on him, leaving him a little confused, searching for the reason as to why, before finally looking at Arthur who was standing still as a statue.

If he were to watch Eames, he would notice that the man was smiling brightly at him in honest pleasure, adding up the silences and the lack of activity and coming to his own conclusion as to why it had occurred.

"Wow," he pronounced as he went to his chair, facing Arthur with all the diligence of the tardy student, reaching for his neatly arranged and complied file folder that had been waiting for him on the table. "You usually speed onwards through the chatter and the plans and don't give a damn if I'm here or not! But, today, you waited for me to show."

Eames placed a hand over his heart and winked at Arthur who had looked at him as he had begun to speak. As he blushed he couldn't stop damning himself for looking away from his files in part to make certain that the Forger was okay.

Their eyes locked for a brief moment and Arthur felt himself trapped in that gaze.

"You really do care about me, don't you, darling?"

Arthur managed to tear his eyes away from the Forger whose smile appeared to be a little thoughtful and just too intrigued by his own question.

The Point Man cleared his throat and gave his attention to the files before him. Let himself become immersed in the information that he had so carefully searched for, gathered, and then complied in the reports each team member had.

"I'd rather that you didn't show up late on purpose. Just pay attention, Mr. Eames."

Wonder of wonders! Eames sat still and remained quiet, almost obedient to Arthur's requests aside from the single comment of- "My attention is all yours, love."

Arthur immediately began to curse himself.

* * *

_B is for Belong_

If he were to look back on his high school days, he could remember the feeling of being solitary. It wasn't that he was without friends- he did have those in a sufficient number. But to the trained eye, a circle of empty space existed between Arthur and these 'friends'. If a photograph were to be taken from a higher vantage point, the shapes described could be likened to crop circles. Formations that offered no idea as to how or why they had been created.

Arthur had never had to make trips to the guidance counselor or the principal. He was a well adjusted student, very bright, but also remote.

Sometimes, when he lay in bed at night, young Arthur had thought that something was off in him, something vital; if he was a puzzle the final piece couldn't be found inside the box. It was lost and made it so that he was a puzzle that could never be truly solved.

Now, as an adult, Arthur understood what had been missing. The lost piece was British, had terrible taste in shirts, but loved him unconditionally. He also occupied the other side of the bed, wait no- he actually liked to take over as much of the bed as possible, cuddling into and around Arthur, sometimes making contented little humming noises against his neck before falling deeper into sleep.

When Arthur would wake in the night and stare up at the ceiling, something inside of him was eased by the comforting weight of the Forger's arm wrapped around his waist, the hand loosely cupping against his hip. Eames' head would be pillowed against the Point Man's chest as he did this.

There was something about that hold that made Arthur sigh in pleasure- the very thought that even as he slept, Eames wanted to stay close to him.

A younger Arthur would have thought that this wasn't possible. But it was true. There was one person that he would belong to, the person that made up that missing piece, and didn't allow much space to pass between them.

Others could find this behavior to be smothering.

But Arthur could never help it as he let himself burrow into the other man's arms, feeling them slot together perfectly, and then lay in a companionable silence filled with no other sounds than their sleep-heavy breathing.

* * *

_C is for Collapse_

When Arthur finally fell for Eames it had been ironic. Because, well, he had actually taken a fall, hurt himself, and been left to the Forger's mercy.

It was a plot taken out of cheesy teen romances, books, and movies.

_Eames had carried him in his arms for godsakes!_

"Eames," Arthur recalled saying, his voice chilly and controlled, trying to hide exactly how embarrassed he was that this was happening at all. "Put me down- I just sprained my ankle! I'll live!"

Eames seemed to delight in carrying Arthur like a bride, grinning like a fool and carefully moving up the stairs that Arthur had taken his fall down. Arthur was cursing each and every step that Eames moved over safely while still trying to understand how in the hell he had managed to _miss_ one and _fall_ the rest of the way down.

And in front of the damned Forger too!

"Arthur, just stop wriggling! I will get you upstairs and then I can take a look at your ankle to see how bad it is."

In response to Arthur's 'wriggling' Eames only held him tighter and closer to his body, and while Arthur was coming up with several different ways to make Eames put him down, he tried to ignore how the other man's body heat was kind of comforting as he was being held so gently.

Finally, they made it to the top with no accidents and then made an interesting entrance to the room where the rest of their team mates had been working while Arthur had injured himself…no, no, no!

Arthur was not going to believe that _he_ had allowed himself to get into such a situation.

When in doubt blame Eames, he thought to himself darkly as the eyes of their three dream team members zeroed in on them and froze.

Yusuf was the first to speak; his eyebrows were raised and he was smiling at Eames.

"Well, don't you two look _cuddly_?"

Arthur felt himself blush unwillingly and when he looked up at Eames from his position in the man's arms he glared as he noticed how wide the Forger's smile was.

"Eames, I'm going to murder you."

He turned his head sharply in Yusuf's direction and narrowed his eyes at him too. "If you say the word _cuddly_ again, I'm going to take great pleasure in murdering you as well."

Ariadne was watching the scene with wide eyes.

"What happened Arthur?" she asked, clearly concerned about the Point Man.

"Oh," Arthur forced himself to bite his tongue against the death threat he _wanted_ to issue because he didn't like how he was being stared at and it felt like his right ankle was being treated to a bizarre form of torture- it was like flaming knives had been driven into his ankle and _jostled around a bit for fun_.

A fresh bout of pain made Arthur's face grow pale and _almost_ made him rest his head against the base of the Forger's throat. He promptly forgot what he had been about to say to Ariadne and spoke to Eames instead.

"Please put me down so we can get the shoe off? I'm afraid that the swelling is getting worse."

Rather than make a dirty joke about swelling, Eames nodded quickly and carried Arthur to one of the lawn chairs. Dom, who had been silent as he watched the spectacle of the two fellow team member's entrance and Arthur's threats, moved closer as Eames chose a lawn chair, set Arthur down gently on one side, and then dragged a regular chair over and positioned it in front of Arthur.

The Forger patted his thigh and smiled at Arthur.

"Okay, darling. Just put it up here and we'll take a look at the damage."

Cringing, Arthur did so. He looked up to notice that Yusuf, Ariadne, and Dom were arranged in a loose half circle at the Forger's back, watching the proceedings with interest.

"Arthur, what happened?" Dom asked seriously.

"I fell," Arthur said through grit teeth as Eames began to worry at the laces of his shoe, trying to be gentle, and making soft nonsense noises in apology as he worked.

To try and take his mind off of the pain, Arthur stopped watching Eames work and looked to Dom instead. He was treated to a look of surprise laced with suspicion that Arthur wasn't happy to see, period.

"You aren't the type to slip on banana peels, Arthur. What were you doing when you fell? You know that we're going under for the Extraction in a couple of days- do you know how this might affect you in the dream?"

While Arthur thought that it was a valid question he didn't like how the man made it sound like Arthur had fallen on purpose. Before he could answer and let his pain driven annoyance get the best of him, Eames spoke for him.

"To clear the air of any conspiracy theories you may have _Cobb,_ I should probably mention that it's my fault."

Arthur looked at Eames again and noticed the set of his shoulders, the firm jaw, and the serious eyes- aside from being a pretty happy, playful, and overall agreeable member of the team, when push came to shove Eames could be as stern as Arthur in the right situation.

He had drawn the attention away from Arthur and now was matching glares with Dominic Cobb.

"He tripped down the stairs when I took his attention away for a moment. You know how I am- I always love to tease our Arthur! But I don't appreciate you even hinting that this is some _ploy_. I thought that I was doing the right thing by picking our Point Man up, carrying him here, and then sitting him down to see how far the damages go."

When Dom tried to speak, Eames shushed him.

"And one other thing! Arthur is one of the strongest people I know! I find it pretty damned insulting that you think that a _sprained ankle_ is enough to tangle up his performance as our Point Man."

Eames coughed and then noticed that he was drawing more attention than he would have liked for this particular conversation. When he noticed how focused Arthur was, he looked away.

From all appearances, Eames was now addressing Arthur's foot.

"But that's my opinion. So, I'd appreciate it if I could actually try and take care of this shoe without resorting to cutting it off."

Like magic, the two dream workers were given more than adequate space. Dom retreated to his own desk, Ariadne moved back to her model, and Yusuf disappeared briefly only to return with a small bottle of pills for Arthur.

"A couple of these should do the trick- my own formula for pain, works very fast, and I'd suggest that you take them before Eames pulls the shoe off."

Distracted by the offer of medicines from the Chemist, Arthur did as suggested and took the pills, sipping from a bottle of cold water.

Eames' head was bowed down as he looked very carefully at Arthur's shoe, seeming to think that the knots of the tied laces were the most important and fascinating thing in the world.

Arthur knew why had had fallen. It hadn't exactly been Eames' fault.

Remembering the moment, when he turned down the last flight of stairs, was nearing the bottom when he spotted Eames with his back turned towards the stairway.

Arthur had been curious as to what the man was doing, what he was looking at, but obviously the man had heard the sounds of Arthur's approach and turned a little to look ever his shoulder.

When he noticed who it was, Eames smiled.

The Point Man had been distracted by the expression on the Forger's face.

It wasn't like he didn't _notice_ how Eames looked at him. Eames looked at him like that all the time. But, at that moment, something about the pleased expression, that honest smile, and the twinkle in his eyes had inspired Arthur to accidently skip a step and fall down the stairs.

He had slid at first, hand on the railing. When he missed the second step and flew forwards he wrenched his ankle trying to adjust his footing.

Another second had passed and he had found himself at the foot of the stairs, bottom sore from landing on the cold ground, right foot aching, with a concerned Forger crouching close to him.

'Come on, darling. Let's get you up and off the ground, yeah?'

When he found that Arthur had hurt his foot, the Forger didn't even hesitate to carefully pick him up and hold him in his arms like a child- something that infuriated Arthur but made him feel better at the same time.

But his thoughts were drawn to current events- the laces were untied and Eames was resting his palm against Arthur's knee, having gently patted it to get his attention.

When he had eye contact, Eames smiled reassuringly.

"Okay, almost done. The shoe will come off and then its going to be elevated and iced. But, you have to bear with me- its not going to be comfortable coming off."

Arthur nodded once, not anticipating this. Despite having been shot at in dreams and reality, and being wounded in both, it was sometimes the smallest of injuries that seem to hurt most in our memories.

Stubbed toes, bashing low tables with the shin, hitting your funny bone, or getting a paper cut and then using that hand sanitizer.

"Take a breath, darling," Eames reminded gently before he pulled the shoe off and tossed it to the floor.

Unwillingly, Arthur felt his eyes begin to tear up at the bizarre combination of the pain from the sprained ankle and the release of pressure as the shoe came off.

He hadn't made a noise as it was done, but still, he found that Eames was looking at him with caring eyes, sympathetic to the pain he was trying very hard not to let show on his face.

"It wasn't your fault and you know it," Arthur said quietly, as Eames was now carefully peeling away the sock and inspecting the swelling of the ankle with gentle fingertips, noticing the development of the bruises.

"Yeah," Eames agreed, "But Dom's just a little bit too wound up by this job, isn't he? It's not right for him to take it out on you because of an accident- if he were smart he wouldn't rely on you so much and then try to bring the world down around your ears at the sign of a small mistake."

Arthur's first response of 'I'm his Point Man, I'm the one he _can_ rely on for everything, I'm his second if things go wrong' was on the tip of his tongue, but somehow he couldn't make the words come.

Arthur didn't answer. He knew that he would be able to do the work required and show Dom that this was a minor mishap. Arthur was anything but unreliable.

"Thank you for the help, Eames. Not just the ankle thing," Arthur said, thanking him for coming to his defense.

Eames shrugged a little and removed his hands from the Point Man's ankle and smiled. "No thanks are needed, darling. I'll go and get some ice for you and when it comes time for it, I'll drive you home."

Before Arthur could do anything like thank him again, Eames was already getting to his feet and moving away from him and towards the door.

Sitting with his foot elevated, Arthur wasn't relishing the thought of hobbling his way to wellness because of his getting distracted by Eames and the way that he smiled at him.

Thinking of it made Arthur blush a little and come to a conclusion that he wasn't entirely pleased with. He was stubborn, and had been adamant about the way he felt for the Forger for awhile.

He didn't like the idea that all it took was falling off some stairs and getting a little TLC from the normally abrasive or downright annoying Forger.

And when Eames came he had ice packs for Arthur's foot, a pillow to keep him more comfortable while his foot was properly elevated, _and_ gave him an ice cream bar, Arthur was still weighing and measuring his feelings on the matter.

Looking back on that moment, Arthur knew that after that incident he had did more than start to fall in love with Eames. He had managed to fall, then _collapse_ into the feeling and remain there happily.

* * *

_D is for Duet_

Arthur wouldn't have had to try very hard to discover who exactly suggested that they go to a _karaoke bar_ after the job was completed.

And, to further Arthur's displeasure over the matter, everyone agreed that it was a great idea!

The Point Man could have sat it out, or, told them all what he felt: That it made him uncomfortable and no, he didn't want to witness Eames making and ass out of himself in a place where the alcohol was abundant and karaoke is still an activity where everyone sings off-key to their favorite songs.

He wasn't saying that he could sing any better and wasn't being purposely antisocial.

He just _really_ had no desire to get up on a little stage surrounded by strangers and a few of his colleagues and embarrass himself. Because that admission in and if itself was embarrassing to him, he had just nodded and smiled and bit the inside of his cheek to stop any negative comments.

When Eames sank down into the seat next to Arthur with a wide smile and an extra drink, Arthur knew that what was going to happen next wasn't going to be pretty, or pleasant, or even fair.

"Next song is us, darling!" Eames slid the drink over to him with a wink. "Go ahead and drink this quick for some extra courage."

Arthur turned his head and stared at Eames.

"No."

Eames pouted. He practiced that pout. Arthur was certain.

"But, come on! It's a duet, darling!"

Trust Eames to do something so likely to make Arthur look like a fool. The Point Man took the glass without looking at the contents and took a drink from it, finding out too late that it was a Screwdriver- the orange juice too little and too bitter to truly mellow the vodka.

After managing to swallow it, Arthur had to cough into a napkin. Eames patted him on the back while muttering, "I told them to make it a little strong, not give it a dash of arsenic."

Even through his bout of coughing, Arthur caught that comment.

"Lovely," he said, his voice a little husky from the coughing. "Get me tipsy, put me on a karaoke stage, and force me to sing." Arthur looked around carefully.

"What are you doing, darling?" Eames couldn't help but ask.

Not pausing in his search, Arthur answered, "I'm looking for cameras. Do you know how much work I'd have to do to pull audio and video of me making an ass out of myself off of the internet?"

Eames couldn't hold back his laughter at the comment and gave Arthur another glass to drink from. "Water," he said when Arthur glared at it in suspicion.

Arthur took it gratefully, and sipped at the non-alcoholic beverage. He looked up at the stage and smiled. He was shaking his head when he looked back to Eames.

"First, how tipsy is Dom and second, does he understand that he's singing Lady GaGa?"

Eames chuckled and nodded his head to the music, not paying attention to how badly Dom was messing up on the lyrics.

Dom was watching the screen for the lyrics, squinting, before singing along a little confused but too drunk to really mind.

"I won't tell you that I love you, kiss or hug you, cause I'm bluffin with my muffin- wait, _what?"_ Dom stopped singing along with the music and then shouted in their direction. "Ariadne! Ariadne, wherever you are, we are going to have words about this 'bluffin with my muffin' thing!"

But Ariadne had vacated her seat near to Arthur and Eames and couldn't be found. For that matter, Yusuf wasn't sitting with them either.

From what Arthur could see, it looked like the Chemist was still flipping through the books of music, trying to find the perfect song.

Dom was stomping off the stage and Eames was already tugging at Arthur's elbow.

To be honest, Arthur didn't exactly mind doing this. Yes, he was worried about being embarrassed, but he had Eames with him.

Eames would do something embarrassing or foolish that would make it so the fickle and unkind God of Karaoke would focus on _him_ instead of Arthur.

They maneuvered their way to the stage, climbed the stairs, and grabbed their microphones.

As they stood in front of the crowd within range of the screen that would show them their lyrics, Arthur swallowed down the brief and unwarranted half-second's worth of stage fright.

Then he nudged Eames who was busy waving at the seated karaoke goers.

When he was sure that he had the man's attention, Arthur asked, "What colors are we?"

Eames smirked at him. "Your lyrics will be pink. Mine will be blue!"

Arthur glared. "Why do I get the effeminate color?"

"Because the duet is between a man and a woman? One of us is going to be pink, love!"

The Point Man was greatly considering taking the first set of lyrics that were in blue, just to screw with Eames, but as he didn't even know what duet styled song he was being forced to sing it might be best to just follow Eames' lead.

The music began to play and the lyrics appeared on the screen, slowly becoming highlighted in blue, Eames following the pace and beginning to sing along.

To Arthur's surprise, he wasn't that bad.

"Do you hear me talking to you? Across the water, across the deep blue ocean, under the open sky. Oh my, baby I'm trying."

When Arthur's set of lyrics began to become highlighted in pink, he just began without much thought to the lyrics he was being forced to sing.

"Boy, I hear you in my dreams. I feel you whisper across the seas. I keep you with me in my heart. You make it easier when life gets hard."

Arthur could feel himself blush. It was a freaking love song.

The Point Man spared a moment to glare at Eames as the lyrics turned purple, indicating that they were both to sing at the same time, together.

Eames gave Arthur a smile and began to sing to him, almost personally.

"Lucky I'm in love with my best friend. Lucky to have been where I have been. Lucky to be coming home again."

There was a moment spent 'ooooh'ing that had Arthur rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"They don't know how long it takes," he sang, "-waiting for a love like this. Every time we say goodbye I wish we had one more kiss. I'll wait for you, I promise you. I will."

Again with the chorus.

Arthur stayed through the song and they even got polite clapping at the end. While Eames was bowing to the clapping people Arthur grabbed onto his arm needing his attention badly.

Eames looked at him, at first surprised, and then a slow smile claimed his lips. There was something definitely anticipatory about that smile.

Since Arthur was an expert on Eames and his expressions, he was more than certain that he expected something romantic to happen.

Arthur smiled back at him, but rather than give the man the kiss he was expecting, Arthur punched him in the face.

It was a nice and decent one too- it made the man's head snap to the side, his eyes blinking slowly in confusion, the smile still half there.

"I am never doing karaoke again," Arthur said, a little surprised when he realized that his voice was much louder, amplified, with the help of the microphone he was still holding in his hand.

Flustered, he dropped it to the ground and walked down the small set of stairs. He fully intended to get out of the karaoke bar without seeing Eames again.

All he wanted now was to go home. He had to start the search for the videos that would most likely be posted on YouTube- it would most definitely be posted somewhere because it was unusual for one person to punch the other after singing a cute love song together.

Arthur could still feel his cheeks burning. A love song. Of course, Eames would choose something to make him look stupid!

The Point Man was having some form of luck working with him as some form of terribly ironic bad luck followed in its wake. He managed to get outside of the karaoke bar and onto the sidewalk that had very little evening foot traffic. He was on his way to the car when he heard puffing breaths, loud footsteps, and then felt a hand on his shoulder.

If it hadn't been for the 'Bloody hell, I've got to quit smoking,' Arthur would have already pulled his gun.

Even as he realized that it was Eames, he had to stifle that thought. He instead turned and knocked the man's hand off of his shoulder.

"What?" He asked through grit teeth. "Are they asking for an encore? Grab Ariadne and have her sing the pink lyrics with you!"

"Darling, please!" Eames begged, appearing unusually contrite. Arthur was taken aback. Either he had been practicing or he really meant it. Maybe.

"I'm sorry that it made you uncomfortable, but how many ways do I have to tell you how I feel? I've said it every way I know how, I've tried to prove my love for you, but it's a _song_ that makes you the most uncomfortable?"

Arthur had to pause and think about this for a moment. What had made him the most uncomfortable with this particular experience?

Was it the fact that there was an audience?

Was it the fact that the people they worked with were present to watch them sing a love song together?

Was it the song itself? It was a cute decent sort of love song. And as Arthur ran the lyrics through in his mind, some if it could even fit their relationship, he guessed. Why else would the Forger had chosen the song?

Arthur sighed and ran one hand down the side of his face, opening his eyes and staring at Eames who was being very watchful and very quiet.

"I'm a very private person, Mr. Eames. You are very loud, and very bright, and very-" Arthur sighed and admitted what he knew to be the truth, "- handsome."

Eames blinked at him. "What- you? You actually think that I'm good looking? But you always poke fun at my clothing."

Arthur nodded. "You have no dress sense whatsoever, but yes, Eames you are attractive. And smart. And funny."

Eames appeared to have grown lighter with each compliment: his eyes were bright, he was smiling, and he just seemed to be exerting a great amount of willpower staying still.

It was hard to keep a smile off of his own face just from watching the Forger.

"We have chemistry. Yes, we fight and we clash in the work place. But, I would like to get to know you better- alone. No karaoke bars, no propositions while I'm in the middle of working on a job. I've actually gotten quite tired of Ariadne coming to me during lunch to 'chat about how I'm going to get into your pants'."

Eames' smile only widened.

"She really talks to you about it? Have you come up with any viable plans?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I was paraphrasing. She just likes to sit down and grill me about _why_ I haven't made a moveand _'why don't you just say yes to Eames for once!'_ "

Eames was begging for a 'Yes'. Arthur could see it in his eyes, his face, the set of his shoulders. If Arthur were to take out a stethoscope he was more than certain that the man's heart would be beating out a Morse-code rhythm that was equal to 'Yes-Yes-Yes-Yes!'. Arthur was also more than certain that the Forger would drop to the floor after such strain.

Eames was looking at him- just so expectant, and excited, and looking all too much like the puppies in the window of the pet store.

'Pick me!' they all said with their cute little eyes. 'Please take me home!'

While Arthur was very tempted to slap himself for even comparing Eames and the situation of the moment to something sweet and innocent like a puppy waiting to be taken from the store, he also couldn't help but give in.

"Yes." Arthur nodded. "I'm saying 'Yes' to you Eames. Where do we take it from here?"

Eames, quietly, almost shyly, reached for Arthur's hand. He took it in his own.

"Well, we can take it slow. We can do dinner tomorrow after work- or we could set up a real date that is nowhere near a karaoke bar."

Arthur smiled, one of those rare smiles that reminded him that, sure- he has dimples. Eames appeared to be ridiculously pleased to catch Arthur smiling that wide.

"Or," Arthur replied, "We can go back to my place. By the way, what was the name of the song you had chosen?"

"Lucky by Jason Mraz featuring Colbie Caillat. Why do you ask, darling?"

The Point Man shrugged. "Nothing special. I'm making an executive decision. I'm taking you home with me."

It received no argument from Eames.

The next morning the number that Eames had given Arthur, the number programmed into his phone, was given its own personal ringtone.

When Eames learned this, he made certain to call Arthur more often. Sometimes, it took a little bit longer for Arthur to answer the phone when he caught himself fondly listening to the song that had become _theirs._

* * *

_E is for Eyeglasses_

Arthur never thought that eyeglasses would be a turn on.

But on _Eames_ …

Arthur hadn't known that Eames was nearsighted. He hadn't even known that the man needed contact lenses in order to see things that were up close- it made Arthur understand _why_ Eames loved to look at his face so lovingly, appearing to commit certain details to memory.

But, one day while staying over at Arthur's place, the Forger had come out of the bathroom wearing a pair of glasses that Arthur didn't recognize. They were delicate looking, a shining gold color, with rectangular lenses.

Arthur had stared at Eames for a solid minute without saying anything.

Eames had become a little bashful, ducking his head enough to allow the glasses to slip down his nose. It made him have to adjust them with a quick, practiced motion of a wearer of glasses- make a fist and use one knuckle to push the glasses back into place.

Arthur hadn't realized that his mouth had been open until Eames mentioned it.

"You'll catch flies, darling. Is it that shocking?"

Arthur shut his mouth immediately, biting his tongue against saying what he had first thought.

'Shockingly _hot!'_

With a pair of glasses on, Eames looked like a scruffy professor! He looked years younger and just so endearing as those big grayish blue eyes peeked out of the lenses.

Arthur was already in love with Eames. But ever since he had made his discovery, Arthur began to develop detailed fantasies involving Eames wearing his glasses.

The Point Man had told him how he thought he looked in them, but Eames had a very different opinion. He thought that he looked terribly wimpy, the most undesirable guy in the room, and had been so relieved when he was able to get contact lenses.

But, since Arthur liked the way he looked in them, Eames had taken to wearing them instead of the contacts more often. On the nights he was to stay over, Eames would take out his contact lenses for the night.

Eames knew that one of Arthur's favorite things about the glasses was how he looked while reading with them.

The times that Eames would take a book to bed were Arthur's favorite. Eames would be sitting up with his glasses on, shirtless and wearing sweatpants reading a murder mystery or some other book he hadn't had a chance to finish.

After a few pages would go by, Eames would always stop and look to his right where Arthur was laying on the bed- not reading or using his laptop to do some kind of web search. Arthur would be curled up on his side watching Eames like there was nothing more fascinating.

It would make Eames smile in pleasure and snap the book shut, set it aside, and turn his attentions to Arthur.

Arthur was only too eager to accept, though one of his conditions was that _the glasses_ _stay on_.

Eames was nothing if not accommodating.

* * *

_F is for Future_

"A carnival?" Arthur pursed his lips at the thought, not quite frowning at Eames as he suggested that they go to a dirty stretch of land, swarming with children that must have rolled in something sticky, and quite possibly have a petting zoo in addition to the prerequisite carnival food and rides.

But Eames' eyes were big and pleading and Arthur could rarely deny Eames something that he wanted. It also helped that when Arthur eventually said yes, the Point Man would get the life squeezed out of him from the Forger's hugs and then have it breathed back in with the number of thankful kisses, and the 'it'll be so much fun, darling's.

Arthur had actually worn casual clothes to go on their trip to the carnival, something that Eames wouldn't stop being amazed over.

"I'm sorry, darling! It's just that you wear those suits so much it makes me want to call your mother and ask what you were wearing when you born!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "As all other infants Eames, I was wearing my birthday suit."

The carnival wasn't as bad as Arthur had thought. It was fairly clean and while there was a small petting zoo luck was on their side as the animals didn't escape as the two men walked past and Eames was too interested in the fortune telling booth to feed goats.

When he spotted it, Eames practically dragged the t-shirt and jeans bedecked Arthur by the hand.

"Look," Eames said in delight. "There isn't a line!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, silently thinking 'Because fortune telling is nonsense.'

Despite Arthur's personal opinions about fortune telling, he was willing to do this because Eames found it fascinating.

They entered the dimly lit tent that was filled with the typical oddments of a fortune teller including brightly colored candles, star charts, and all things to do with the zodiac. There were posters and the odd bumper sticker (One that read 'My other car's a broomstick.'), ceramic black cats, and a few caldrons.

Incense was burning, making Arthur really want to sneeze and Eames was excited, looking left and right and all around at the stuff that littered the small area.

"Would you look at all of it!" Eames said with a smile. "It's just so neat, love!"

Arthur fought the urge to make comparisons between this tent and the shirt that Eames was wearing by saying that both lacked in taste. But, the thing was, Arthur could walk away from this tent after saying something mean, though it was also a valid observation, with nothing bad happening.

If Arthur said the same thing to Eames, the man would get a little hurt. Sometimes it didn't matter that Arthur had said similar things about his clothes. It stood the chance of completely ruining their Tuesday evening- Arthur just loved what they could get up to on a Tuesday evening!- making it so Eames would sulk and Arthur would most likely be sleeping by himself.

So, Arthur tried to smooth out his expression into something a little less annoyed and disbelieving.

He settled on a frown.

There was the clattering of beads as a woman in Gypsy costume stepped through a beaded curtain.

She wore heavy skirts, something that exposed a little too much of her chest, had easily six necklaces around her neck and twice as many bracelets on each wrist.

Her dark hair was shot with gray but hung free around her shoulders. This woman favored them with a smile and gestured that they may sit down at her table, each man taking a chair so they sat next to each other facing the empty seat reserved for the fortune teller.

"And what may I do for you gentlemen today? At your age, all I ever hear about is 'Tell me my future!'" She said, sitting down primly before folding her hands before her on the table top.

"But we can expand from that. I'm running a special- palm reading is buy one get one free. Cards to reveal the past, understand the present, and learn of the future's mysteries are three-card layouts for five dollars each."

She gesture to a tea pot and shrugged. "I could brew some tea and read the leaves for you, if that's to your pleasure?"

"Well," Eames drawled, "though I like my tea, how about a palm reading?" He nudged Arthur with his elbow and grinned. "That means you can get one too!"

The fortune teller smiled at Eames and nodded.

"Alright, palm reading it is! Just let me see your hand, preferably the dominant one, dear."

Eames did so, presenting his empty hand palm up for the woman to inspect.

Arthur leaned forward as well to get a better look, interested despite his opinion of magic and fortune telling.

When Eames caught him looking, the man winked at him before returning his attentions to the woman carefully studying his palm.

Her fingers traced the lines and she smiled to herself.

"You are an interesting man, sir. Creative, very caring, a bit of a reckless streak in you though. You have a very deep love line, strikes the mound of Venus under your index finger."

Eames smiled at her observations. "And what does that mean?"

She looked up at Eames and smiled brightly. "Obviously dear, when you fall in love you go in all the way! The knots on the line indicate that you will have or _had_ at least three good loves in your life time."

In response to that, Eames shrugged.

After a few more observations, she gestured for Arthur to give her his hand next.

For a moment, Arthur wanted to refuse. It was odd how many things the woman had seen in Eames' hand that were similar to exactly true. What if she saw something bad?

Arthur didn't have any illusions about himself. He knew that he was a good man- but his line of work could become dicey, full of blood, betrayal, and murder.

Would the number of people he had ended up killing be written in the lines of his palm much like the number of loves were on Eames'?

There was something unsettling to him to have so much personal information in another person's reach if that person knew how to read a palm. However unlikely that may be.

And he had made sure to check that this woman was just skilled at reading people, period. Watching her like Eames did other players during a game of poker. Looking for the tells, the little tips, and the signs.

Arthur hadn't seen anything, so when Eames sent him a questioning look and the fortune teller raised an eyebrow, he sighed, mentally shook off his worry, and extended his hand palm up.

The fortune teller took it, grasping it gently in two hands, looking at the palm close enough that Arthur could feel each exhaled breath brush against it.

"Oh," she said after a moment, sounding genuinely sad. "I'm so sorry."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, a little bubble of annoyed worry rising up in him.

"Something wrong, miss?"

She nodded and looked at his palm again. "This line here," she said, running her finger up and down its length to define it. "Not a single knot or break."

"And that's a bad thing?" Arthur asked as Eames looked at the line himself. He made a humming noise before looking at his own palm and finding the same line.

"Dear, this love line has never been broken. Have you ever been in love before?"

Arthur's face flushed and he tried to remember exact people he had ever felt love for. There was family and friends but he believed that she was hinting at romantic love.

He resisted the urge to look at Eames. He loved Eames. He felt very firm in that idea, whatever the stupid love line suggested be damned. It was just garbage and good guesses!

But, as the woman began to veer away from the subject of love, she detailed Arthur's personality by looking at his palm, the shape of his hands, and even his fingernails.

"Very meticulous, a hard worker, easily frustrated."

Arthur listened as she talked about his life line that was cut in half in two different places on his palm, suggesting that he had run into trouble either physical, monetary, or emotional that derailed him for a little bit.

The Point Man could only think of two instances that linked up- when he was a child he had almost drowned in the family swimming pool before an uncle had rescued him. And then there was the disaster that was Inception- the number of near death experiences during that time were more than enough to fill a lifetime.

At the end of his reading, Arthur felt sick. He didn't like what the woman had suggested at the start and he didn't like what she had learned during the reading.

As Eames paid, he stood up to leave and rather than wait, he walked out without him.

"Arthur?" Eames called from behind him, coming to stand by Arthur's side as he stood on the hay covered grounds of the carnival, looking around as if lost.

"Arthur, look you know that she was probably just making that junk up." Arthur refused to look at him right away and for a moment Eames scrambled for something in his pockets.

Arthur looked over at him curiously as Eames discovered a black ball point pen. "Love, just give me your hand."

The Point Man wasn't sure what to expect after the fortune telling that left him feeling so blue.

When he extended his hand out to Eames, the man uncapped the pen and began to trace the length of the Point Man's love line. Arthur watched as the Forger reached the middle of the line and carefully drew in a little knot, the pen mark love line branching off before reconnecting to create the little knot that then extended down the length of Arthur's natural love line.

He drew a little line that connected it to the neat script of his own name, ' _Eames',_ with a little heart next to it.

When he was done, Eames smiled proudly. "See, she just couldn't see it so clearly, darling! It doesn't have to be written in the stars or the palm of your hand for it to be real, you know."

But, either way, Eames did shrug and offer the pen to Arthur who took it and drew his own name onto the palm of Eames' hand.

They looked at the markings on their hands briefly before smiling at each other.

It was ridiculous for Arthur to even doubt what Eames' felt or his own capacity for being loved. They had made a record of it on their palms that would wash off soon enough, but the meaning and intentions behind the actions weren't so temporary.

The future was what you made it and in love they had each other.

* * *

_G is for Gossip_

To understand Arthur's horror concerning the evil that is known as gossip, one would have to look closely at a situation that involved a unofficial game of 'Telephone' and how in just one afternoon, his entire team is lead to believe that Arthur is proposing to Eames and they will soon be married.

Let the game begin with Eames as he tells Ariadne about what his plans for the evening are.

Eames leans against the table she is working at with a set of blueprints before her.

"It's amazing how sweet Arthur can be," he said to her softly so he wouldn't be overheard even though Arthur had gone out on a coffee run. Besides the Architect and the Forger, the only other person present was Dom. And _he_ was busy halving his time between thinking over their latest plan while sitting or thinking over the plan and _pacing_.

Ariadne was looking carefully at the blueprints for errors.

She hummed to herself. "Sure, sweet. You know that he only volunteered to fetch the stuff because he was running low. The really sweet part was when he wrote down what we wanted, though I hope he gets decaf for Dom. The man's practically wearing a line into the ground with all that pacing!"

Eames glanced over to Dom to find that this was true- anything that had been in his way had been pushed out. Chairs, wastebaskets, and Eames' whiteboard had been cleared so the man could pace freely.

The Forger did hope that the man received decaf.

"That's not what I meant, love." He said to Ariadne, looking like he was all mischief and delight, just so eager to tell her why _he_ thought that Arthur was sweet.

But, since he had finally gotten the man to agree to date him, the Forger made it plain that there were a great many things about Arthur that he thought were sweet (or sexy depending on the situation).

"Arthur made reservations at a very nice restaurant- he wants it to be a surprise! Isn't that lovely of him?"

Ariadne nodded, still only half listening to Eames' news.

"That's wonderful, Eames. But how do you know if it's supposed to be a surprise?"

If Ariadne looked up at him, she would have noticed that the man was wearing a very self assured smile. " _I know._ I have my ways and I know how to watch Arthur for the signs that he's tried to hide something. I'm that good!" Of course, he doesn't mention that he also had found the evidence of Arthur making the reservations the day before and had to be extra vigilant that the man wouldn't know that _he knew._

And one way to do so would be to tell someone else about it. The truth would be cut in half and shared, its weight made less.

What Eames wasn't counting on was how the story would spread and morph and change as it hopped from person to person. That was the way of gossip.

It was why Arthur hated 'Telephone'. It was also why he hated dominoes and how with just one nudge and the whole line could come crashing down. With the advances in communication, texting, and the internet available it was possible to have a metaphorical line of dominoes and a game of 'Telephone' that wrapped its way around the world in no time at all.

When Arthur arrived with the beverages and some sandwiches a break was called for lunch.

Arthur sat at his desk and Eames followed, getting into his space and using the corner of the Point Man's desk to place his tea and the sandwich Arthur had thought to bring him.

The Point Man shook his head, looked annoyed, but shut down his laptop as he had considered working through lunch and put it away so he could spend time with the Forger during the meal.

Ariadne was sitting with Dom, watching the other men as they spoke softly and enjoyed their food. After a moment's thought and consideration spent towards how wrapped up Eames and Arthur were in each other, she made a decision.

She turned her head and began to relate to Dom what Eames had told her.

But, as she hadn't been listening so carefully, she got some details wrong. That was the problem with a game of 'Telephone'- the idea being to recall and relate the message you have had whispered into your ear. And she had made the same mistake that all 'Telephone' players make when participating.

She tweaked the story a little to match what she 'remembered'.

"Did you know that Arthur's going to take Eames someplace special tonight?"

Dom, who had bitten into a ham and cheese sandwich, took a moment to reply. After chewing and swallowing, he answered her with his eyebrows raised.

"No. I didn't know it. The question would be how do _you_ know it?"

Ariadne waved his question away. "Eames has this _feeling_ about it, you know? He thinks that Arthur's doing something special!"

Dom wasn't particularly dense. He had a pretty good feeling what Ariadne was trying to tell him in as few words as possible.

But, because he didn't want to be caught in the middle of gossiping with the Architect he shrugged one shoulder and went back to his food with a simple 'That's really nice of Arthur' that was followed with Ariadne's reply of 'No its _sweet_!'

Dom wasn't a gossiper. But as he watched the Forger and the Point Man sit together and look, well, in Ariadne's words, _cute_ he happened to think harder about what surprise Arthur might want to give to Eames.

It really only hit him when he was relating the story to Yusuf when he had called about the new chemicals they would be receiving.

"Arthur's going to surprise Eames with something, and I think I know what it is." Dom had said, unaware that he had gotten it completely wrong. He waited in the hallway, talking on his cell phone so he couldn't be overheard.

"He'll dress casual, and not as in 'casual suit'?" Yusuf asked mockingly.

Dom didn't want to blurt it out. He really didn't. He thought that maybe he should just keep this thought, this idea, under his hat and wait to see if that's really what was going to happen.

But, then, Dom _did_.

"I think that Arthur's going to propose to Eames tonight!"

There was a drawn out silence that was filled with the odd crackle or hiss of a bad phone connection.

"Really?" Yusuf said, polite and proper but still a little disbelieving. It would take a lot for Arthur to make such a move, and they hadn't even been dating that long.

And unless you looked at the two men and their interactions under a microscope you wouldn't even begin to think that they were _dating_.

It was true though. Eames was happier. He still blatantly flirted with Arthur during work, but the difference was that Arthur seemed more receptive to it.

There had been at least five instances where Yusuf had caught Arthur blushing in pleasure from it. The man didn't seem nearly as cold as he was apt to come off as most of the time.

As much as he was unsure, the pieces seemed to fit.

"You might be right," Yusuf said back to Dom before hanging up and thinking very hard about who to go to with this information next.

It was Saito. Why not? He had become their team member during Inception. Had risked his life and then, gave Dom his freedom to return to his children and to America.

Every team member had the man's personal cell phone number and had been instructed to call if they required assistance.

Yusuf hadn't been sure if this situation qualified. He knew that Saito and Eames had formed some sort of a bond on the third level during the Fischer job- maybe the man would appreciate to hear such news.

They had _all_ been waiting for Arthur to finally loosen up, agree to be with Eames, and now this was it!

When Saito picked up his phone, a hush had fallen in the room. There was a table and several important men in suits with important file folders of information. It would also be redundant to say that this information was _also_ important. But it was.

The call had interrupted a business meeting, but, no one was dumb enough to say a word against their boss.

Saito answered and had to hold the phone away from his ear as an excited Chemist nearly shouted. "Oh my god, they are getting married!"

This audible comment drew many curious looks and raised eyebrows.

"I would assume that you mean-," Saito began to question before getting cut off once more.

"Yes. Eames and Arthur. Arthur is going to surprise Eames with it tonight!"

Saito nodded to himself, thoughtful. "They have been dancing around each other for long enough. I will have to send my congratulations."

The call ended, Saito placed his phone into his pocket before taking it out once more and doing something that shocked his business associates.

Saito sent a text message.

* * *

What followed was the mangled bit of gossip circulating back through the gossipers.

If the dominoes were stacked back up in their little line, they would have fallen down again after the gossip came back transformed from Eames' 'Arthur is going to take me some place special as a surprise!' to Yusuf's 'Arthur and Eames are going to get married!'

It came from Saito, back down the line until everyone involved except for Arthur learned the big news that wasn't true.

Then Arthur found out.

* * *

Arthur had been confused- he didn't like confusion at all. It led to mistakes and problems and unfortunate situations.

It was a Point Man's job to deal with all of those things, but for god's sake he couldn't find the source. Only the aftermath.

After lunch, long after lunch actually, he had started to get these _looks_ from his coworkers.

Dom looked proud.

Ariadne looked to be at the point of 'fluttery barely contained excitement' as she glanced between Arthur and Eames.

Eames was mildly amused by the attention he also seemed to be getting in addition to phone calls and text messages.

In a way, those were worse.

Arthur received the text message first. Even stranger, it was from Saito and had nothing to do with a job proposal.

_Arthur, I wish to say how happy I am that you have finally come to your senses about Mr. Eames. Please expect a check in your account and a flower arrangement once you have chosen a date._

The Point Man had to read it _twice._

When he looked at Eames it appeared that he had gotten a similar text message and the man could only shrug in response.

Maybe the man knew that they were dating, Arthur thought. But did it really warrant a check for such a large amount and a promise to send _flowers?_

Arthur was saved from having to think on it more when he received a call from Yusuf.

The connection was bad and he could only hear some crackling noises and some broken sentences from Yusuf.

"Hello?" Arthur said, frowning as he placed one hand against his ear and pressed the cell phone harder against the other.

The most that he could interpret from the Chemist was ' _Crackle-crackle-hiss-_ Not tell me? _Crackle-hiss-_ So happy for you both- _masked laughter- more hissing-_ Eames' going to act like a fourteen year old girl! _Crackle-snap- pop- hiss-_ "

And then the phone call ended with a beep.

Arthur very slowly put the phone down and pushed it away from himself at the desk. He was sure that Eames would describe his expression as _priceless_ but Arthur would admit only to himself that he was a little scared now.

What did everyone know that he didn't?

Now, Arthur wasn't a clock watcher. But after everything he went through on this day, he was counting the minutes and seconds to go before he would grab Eames by the wrist and drag him from this office and to dinner where they might get a little bit of privacy.

* * *

At the nice restaurant- so nice that the silver was regularly and lovingly polished, the napkins were made of good cloth, the waiters were polite and knowledgeable without being snooty, and soft music played in the background.

Eames was having a ball and loved the surprise he wasn't supposed to have known about beforehand.

Arthur was trying hard to relax after the odd behavior of the others at work.

He had some excellent wine and wonderful company. Catching the Forger's loving gaze, Arthur felt more of that annoyance and vague paranoia drift off.

This wasn't a place where he could feel bad. He had Eames and they could deal with whatever nonsense was occurring today- later.

Like, after they were done with the wine, and after they skipped dessert at the restaurant and had it back at his place. After they went to bed and after they actually went to bed to _sleep_.

Tomorrow couldn't seem far enough away at this point of the night.

Arthur reached for Eames' hand and when he had it, he squeezed gently.

"I was having a strange day, but now, this is nice."

Eames chuckled. "Says the man who set it up."

The Forger looked around at the place; the table settings, the candles, the guests, and the food.

"I love it," the Forger said, pulling their clasped hands up far enough so he could kiss the back of Arthur's hand, smiling as Arthur blushed just a little. "Happen to love you a little more, though."

Arthur cleared his throat and tried to find the words. Something that explained to Eames that tonight just wasn't a dinner at a nice place or a bottle of wine that cost just a little too much. That tonight, he had wanted to show Eames that he did appreciate him more than he let on.

Eames was wonderful, and smart, and witty. Arthur just wanted to give him what he deserved, and as a man that didn't readily show his feelings or even say 'I love you' all the time, the Point Man felt that it was time to step up his game.

"You're worth it, Eames," Arthur managed to say. "I do these things because I love you t-," the sound of a cell phone interrupted Arthur treating Eames to one of his rare declarations.

If he hadn't felt the phone vibrating in his pocket as it made an annoying little 'ping' noise to signal that yet another text message had been received, he would have been glaring daggers at the person foolish enough to leave their phone on during a meal.

Arthur had honestly thought that he had it on silent.

The moment ruined, Arthur let go of Eames' hand to check his messages as one could never know _what_ calamity had made a person try to dial his number or shoot him a text. And Arthur was professional enough to keep that in mind despite his bitterness at a loving moment derailed.

It turned out that he had three text messages.

One from Ariadne – _Did you ask him yet, Arthur?_

One from Dom- _I'm sick of having text message battles with Yusuf. I'll be your best man if you let Yusuf be Eames'._

One from Yusuf- _I didn't think that I would cry, but I might have a little bit! Congrats, you two!_

After blinking for a moment, he put the phone down and looked at a very curious Eames.

"What was that about, darling?"

Arthur bit his lip. Did he want to ruin this night by getting angry at Eames? Eames probably made a comment that lead to this misinterpretation. _He had to have…_

He knew that Eames was prone to gossiping like an old woman if he had nothing better to do.

No, Arthur decided. It could wait till later when Arthur could speak to Eames about it with a clear head.

Arthur smiled at Eames and shrugged pushing the matter aside, wanting to get back to their meal and their date.

"Wrong number."

He could take care of it tomorrow.

* * *

_H is for Habits_

Arthur was well versed in the morning habits of Eames.

Every morning, Eames would take a shower. While in the shower, Eames would sing songs from some of his favorite musicals.

After that shower- he would dress and head for the kitchen, intent on making breakfast.

Arthur had his own habits for the morning that revolved around Eames'.

First, Arthur always managed to wake up before the Forger did. But he didn't have any task to set himself to at that time. Or if he did, he'd call it 'Pretend to be asleep so I can cuddle up with Eames for thirty more minutes.'

When it came time for Eames to wake up and head for that shower the Forger would always linger just a little longer to give Arthur the first kiss of the day along with a softly spoken 'Good morning, darling.'

By that time, Arthur had lulled himself into a half awake, half dreaming slumber that wouldn't be fully broken until Eames had finished the shower and begun his work in the kitchen.

It was the smell of brewing coffee that gave Arthur that final shove into wakefulness.

But, before Arthur ever made it out of bed, he had one more habit to complete like an honored ritual.

Since he had begun this relationship with Eames, spent his days and nights with him, Arthur had taken to checking his totem as he woke up.

And like every other morning, Arthur reached for his red die and rolled, and rolled, and rolled. Each time, the number was different, meaning that once again, he was in reality despite this being too good to be true.

* * *

_I is for Idea_

If it hadn't been for the fact that Arthur was so sure, he'd believe that someone was trying to plant an Inception on him.

He checked his totem regularly, much more regularly than usual, because as of late he had become possessed with an _idea_.

This started as something unbearable. Eames could be so very terribly annoying! He just wouldn't stop pushing his buttons and smiling that damned smile!

And then, the idea, the most contagious of things fully set in and Arthur was lost.

The infection set in completely the day that Arthur forced Eames into a closet, shoved the man's back up against the wall, and proceeded to kiss the life out of him.

A pause for breath was followed with a wide but appreciative smile growing on Eames' face, and Arthur pressing his forehead against the Forger's shoulder, muttering something to himself that Eames could barely catch.

"What was that, darling?" Eames panted out, unable to stop smiling for anything.

Arthur looked up at Eames and frowned.

"I have been possessed by the idea that you and I should be together," Arthur nodded to himself, licking his lips. "Yes, that we'd be perfect together."

Eames couldn't believe it. He looked so shocked that Arthur was finally saying 'Yes!'

"I agree," Eames said quickly, "I can't begin to tell you how much I've wanted this!"

Arthur placed two fingers against Eames's mouth to silence him and had to stop himself from tracing the lines of the lush upper and lower lips.

Then he did it anyway.

The Point Man pressed himself closer to Eames, not leaving an atom's worth of space between them. He wanted to press their lips together again, but felt he had to warn Eames fair and square.

"I am of the opinion that someone has put this idea in my mind. Never mind that I _like_ the idea. And if you _ever_ do anything to try and snap me out of it, I will do something drastic to you."

Eames leaned forwards to whisper, "You are waiting for a train-"

Arthur punched Eames on the arm before he could go on any farther, glaring daggers, and then pulling the other man into another kiss.

When it was over, Eames, slightly dazed, said "I take it was a little too soon for that one?"

* * *

_J is for Justify_

One reason why it had taken Arthur so long to give into Eames was because he hadn't been sure how to justify it.

Arthur was aware that it was moments like that that only fed into the negative perception about him. About how he was nothing but a cold and heartless Point Man that could only think in numbers and other forms of data. Like he was a robot.

'Justify' could be a sticky word to use in matters of love and attraction, but it had seemed the most apt.

And he didn't use it when thinking of how to justify his love of Eames. Loving Eames was the simplest yet most aggravating thing he could do.

In loving Eames, Arthur had to open himself up to the Forger's inquisitive mind and quick intelligent eyes. He would have to answer questions that had nothing to do with a job but everything to do with himself- everything from where he grew up to where he went to school, who his favorite parent was- Mom or Dad, and what he had done before getting involved in dreamshare and becoming the best Point Man in the business.

What scared Arthur was that he wanted to tell Eames all of those things and more. They would lay together in bed and have these conversations that only further pushed Arthur to question, 'How does Eames justify his love of _me?'_

Once Arthur finally asked, Eames rolled his eyes and hugged him close to whisper each and every thing he found to be fascinating about the Point Man, all the things he wanted to know about and more.

"You see, darling," Eames said, "There isn't any one way for me to justify loving you- I'm vindicated by my love of you. Loving you _is_ right."

The Forger kissed him on the forehead and hummed to himself in pleasure.

"Now, tell me who your favorite author is, darling?"

* * *

_K is for Key_

"What's this, darling?"

Arthur forced himself not, definitely _not_ to melt at the way Eames would refer to him by that little pet name. It was the _accent_ , and- and the deepness of the Forger's voice, and how Arthur could barely count on one hand the number of people that Eames found deserving to use that name on.

It was mainly just reserved for Arthur and small children.

He actually had to shake his head to clear it as the Forger had just found the present Arthur had wanted to give him for several weeks now.

It wasn't that Arthur was afraid to give it to him. It was just he knew that Eames was one to travel and might not want to put down roots just because of him and his rather mushy offer.

But, Arthur had felt that there was no better time than now.

He had slid a simple small white box to Eames while they sat at his table having breakfast and now, as Arthur was washing dishes, the man wanted to talk about it.

They had been doing this for months now- staying over at each other's places, spending the morning together, and then going to work. It made Arthur feel so domestic to do dishes with Eames or sit down and watch late night movies with Eames.

Arthur took his eyes off of the empty breakfast plate he had been washing, put it down into the sink, and after clearing his throat, turned to face Eames who was holding a copy of Arthur's apartment key in-between two fingers.

The man had pushed the empty box away to look at the shining sliver key and then look at Arthur who was just a little embarrassed at how serious this felt.

He was just giving him a _key_.

"I thought it would be nice to give you a key," Arthur said. "You practically live with me most days of the week, anyway."

Eames smiled brightly at Arthur and waved the key at him.

"You know why I do, though. Don't you, darling?"

Arthur felt his heart get jammed somewhere near his throat. He'd like to think that it was because Eames loved him, but it could also be because he loved Arthur's shower.

They had had a joking conversation about that before, but it had actually gotten Arthur to really think about it. The conversation had been about Eames' apartment and how it had strange drafts and poor water pressure and how Arthur's place had maintained a broken elevator for at least a month making the trek up three flights of stairs with groceries a nightmare.

'If we were ever to live together, I vote on your place!' Arthur had said after collapsing on the couch, not caring about the groceries they had dragged up to his apartment at the moment. It hadn't surprised him when Eames plopped down next to him. The thought of the ice cream melting had been the last thing of Arthur's mind as Eames placed himself so _close_ to him and began the apartment debate.

'You'd hate it, love. The drafts, dear god, the drafts are terrible!'

Arthur had shaken his head, 'Thankfully I've never experienced that- I usually have a nice and warm Forger pinning me to the bed, saying "Just five more minutes, darling" over and over again.'

Eames had grumbled to himself. 'The water pressure is terrible at my place- yours is so much better. You get hot water reliably too, and I just love your shower!'

'I knew it,' Arthur had said in mock outrage, 'You just wanted me for the shower- the times you've said I love you were all just lies!'

Eames snorted in amusement, 'But you know which I love better, right?'

Arthur had allowed himself to dissolve into an embarrassed puddle of 'darling', and spent far too much time kissing Eames after that little conversation. So long that the ice cream had indeed melted.

A shake of his head brought Arthur back to the here and now.

It was funny how the two conversations were merging- how the Eames at the table and the Eames that had been on the couch with him had the same opinions.

Eames was rising up from his spot at the table the key still in his hand in order to press himself against Arthur as the Point Man leaned against the sink. Eames waved the key before Arthur, the winking silver of the metal flashing in the light before Eames placed it in his own pocket.

After that, he made it a point to slip his now empty hands up in order to cup the Point Man's face.

"I love you so don't be dense, darling. I want to live with you for _you_ first and your shower second."

Arthur had never been happier to be chosen over a utility.

* * *

_L is for Lonely_

Arthur is the best.

He isn't just bragging. It happened to be a statement of fact. Arthur is the best Point Man, period.

But what he had found out in the beginning was that being the best was great for business. It made him highly sought after. It made him plenty of money, too.

But, it was also very lonely.

That's why Arthur counts himself lucky to have Eames at his side.

Eames is also the best, is also highly sought after for his Forgery, and makes a lot of money because of this.

But, Eames also gets lonely too.

Imagine his surprise as Arthur comes to the same conclusion- because when they are together they aren't so lonely.

It was a comfort to both as they stood at the top of their particular fields in dreamshare, that while Arthur was the best Point Man and Eames the best Forger they remained the best together.

* * *

_M is for Mutual_

For Arthur, it wasn't a challenge to recognize Eames' feelings for what they were. He was under no illusion that darkly whispered how the Forger wasn't interested in him, or liked him, or even better- _didn't_ _love him_.

Arthur was just spectacularly _stubborn_.

The Point Man felt that it was going to take something away from himself as a person to admit that his feelings had changed for the man that he had openly expressed distaste for since the first time they met and worked together.

Arthur liked to believe that he was a steady person with opinions that weren't subject to change at the drop of a hat.

Changing from experiencing dislike to serious interest in a person (let alone a person that you worked in and out of dangerous situations with in both dreams and reality) felt like it was too careless a change.

The Point Man fought reciprocation with every fiber of his very being.

Until one day, when things were particularly dangerous he allowed it to slip out.

There had been gunfire exchanged outside of dreams inside their current warehouse which meant that it wasn't nearly as easy to restore yourself to good health. In real life you didn't always happily bounce back from a killing shot to the head or a shot to the heart.

Arthur had placed himself in the best position to pick off their attackers one by one as his team mates struggled to return fire and maintain cover.

There had been movement from out of the corner of Arthur's eye and before he could swing his gun into position the gunman that had snuck around to Arthur's unprotected side, managed to send a few wild but still deadly shots in his direction.

It had taken Arthur a moment before the world stopped spinning to understand that he had been hit. Then, it was all he could think of. The intense burning pain of the bullet in his arm intensifying, the shot that had forced his gun to slip from his hand and lay on the ground as useless to him as a nice metal rock since he couldn't persuade his arm to stretch and grab it or for his fingers to do more than twitch.

Shock, Arthur thought, wonderful. I will die because of _shock_.

But, rising up like a dark thought, there was Eames with a face like thunder. Glaring, his eyes spoke of murder as he stood behind the man that had _dared_ to shoot Arthur. The Forger took away his gun and shot the man in the head without another thought.

To be honest, Arthur had been having a very hard time paying attention. The amount of blood coming from the wound was worrying him. But, then, he was also worried about something strange- why was it that whenever he became involved in a dangerous situation he asked himself whether or not he had left the _stove_ on?

When Eames sank down to his knees before Arthur he took a clean handkerchief (that amazed Arthur, that the man would have one on hand)and pressed it hard against Arthur's wound to try and stop the bleeding.

Arthur had cringed and made some little weak 'god it hurts' noise that doesn't normally happen to the action heroes in the movies. Eames made soothing noises at him and asked him if he was alright.

The Point Man had taken a panting breath and focused very hard on Eames, noticing that the man looked tired and sweaty, just a little bit bloody from the fight, but also was so damned beautiful it hurt.

Or maybe that was his arm.

But anyway, it made him take stock of his life and see that he was lacking something special. And that empty space had a little note on it that said 'Reserved for Eames once I finally stop being so stupid'.

The space didn't even have any cobwebs. For an imaginary space somewhere in his heart, Arthur had maintained it beautifully and lovingly.

Arthur focused on Eames again and noticed how tired the man was, which wasn't so bad because he was as well.

It made Arthur laugh a little. When Eames asked him what was so funny, Arthur closed his eyes and sighed.

Then he remembered that a confession of this magnitude required eye contact, so he opened his eyes and looked deeply into Eames' and said, "The feeling- the being tired, scared, sweaty, bloody, and in love thing is mutual."

But despite this conversation, finally reciprocating and not being so damned stubborn, and feeling the love just as much as the blood loss, Arthur believed that some demon or god wanted to sully the moment just a little bit for him.

So, when the romance of the moment was riding high and Eames moved to kiss him, Arthur had already passed out.

* * *

_N is for Naked_

Arthur loved to be naked.

Well, he could rephrase that so he wouldn't sound like some kind of exhibitionist.

Arthur loved to be naked with _Eames_.

First of all, Arthur loved his clothing- he loved his clothing to pieces. He liked to put it on and take it off, and as they had found out, Eames was always interested in this.

Sometimes, Eames would sit up in bed and watch Arthur carefully pull on his nice clothing, aware that the Forger was watching him do this, getting as far as sitting down on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks and shoes before Eames would hug him from behind and tug at the tie Arthur wore.

"Now you get to take it all off and start over, darling."

Arthur shivered when he heard those words.

If and when he had the time he would indulge them both in such a fun activity.

But, Arthur could never admit that he _wanted_ to do such a thing. He had appearances to uphold!

And yet, when he did, he had not a care in the world about appearances other than what Eames body looked like and what _his_ body looked like because it didn't matter how many times they were intimate, Arthur couldn't get enough. The Point Man always found something new to interest him as he mapped and traced Eames' body in order to commit everything to memory.

It was Arthur's wish to learn every single story that lead to this or that tattoo and where a scar came from. He liked to know where he could touch Eames to make the man shiver, hum, moan, or outright _growl_.

So far, Arthur had only missed two separate work days to enjoy this activity with Eames. Each time he had lied smoothly about not feeling well, worked twice as hard the next day to make up for it, and then came back to Eames at the day's end.

If love was considered to be madness Arthur didn't want to see the broadside of 'sane' ever again.

* * *

_O is for Outwit_

Deep in his heart, Arthur was sure that if it ever came time to measure their skills against one another, Eames could very well hand his ass to him.

The Forger was brilliant.

Where Arthur plotted coldly using known facts and figures, Eames went right for the heart and delved deep into a mark's thought processes, hopes, dreams, and secret failings.

While Arthur could find police reports for a mark who had been arrested several times for spousal abuse, Eames could break the man down and find out _why_ he hurt his wife and what motivated the man to take such actions, who and what was responsible for the behavior and if there had been any push in his youth to foster such an ugly trait.

If Arthur looked at the fleshy outside of a man for their definition and character and sought out their lives as they were inscribed onto paper in ink, Eames chose to follow the paths of the veins and sink into the blood, know the shape of the bones, and become aware of what made this person tick.

Their processes were different, both happened to be effective, but Eames just had a special flare for it.

As a Forger it was Eames skill to know a person that deep and that far and that much. He had to _become_ another person and his roles had to be flawless in their execution.

There was a time when Eames had taken up Forging Arthur in a dreamscape while they were alone together.

The first time had been priceless.

Arthur had been walking in front of a large seamless mirror, a mirror that seemed to stretch on to forever and reach the curve of the upended china blue bowl that was the sky in this dream.

He had glanced to his right where the mirror stood and noticed his reflection.

Arthur didn't much care for his reflection. He believed at times his eyes lacked something, though Eames would always comment that they were 'such lovely brown eyes, very deep, but also kind'.

The Point Man paused before the mirror and looked at his eyes, trying to see what Eames saw.

He failed.

His reflection revealed nothing to him. He was just a well put together man in a nice suit, a man who was more than capable of doing harm to those that had similar intentions.

But, there was this moment when Arthur was turning away from the mirror to begin walking again that he thought he saw something move.

He turned sharply and looked at his reflection again and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. It was strange because, unless Arthur's eyes were playing tricks on him he could have sworn that his reflection _winked_ at him as he was turning away.

What proceeded was a moment of Arthur practicing and testing to see if he had done something ridiculous like create a projection of himself inside a _mirror._

His reflection did what he did perfectly; matched his pacing steps to his sudden turns to face the mirror. Arthur made faces and his reflection copied him.

Giving up, Arthur turned away from his seemingly normal reflection and started walking again when his 'reflection' calmly walked out of the mirror and cleared his throat.

Arthur turned around to face himself outside of the mirror and gaped at himself.

His former reflection smiled at him wide enough to display his dimples and spoke, his voice and inflections matching perfectly.

"It's rare to outwit yourself," the reflection pronounced in Arthur's tone of voice, sounding like he was about to give a presentation to their team. The reflection nodded his head, "But in dreams anything is possible," the reflection explained, cocking his head to the side and saying softly, almost like an afterthought. "You already know that though. Don't you, darling?" The voice had changed into something familiar, an accent that Arthur would admit to himself was pleasant to hear, and an endearment that only one person dared to use for him.

All it took was a quick glance at the mirror and Eames' Forgery collapsed in on itself to reveal his true form. The smiling and smug Eames was watching Arthur's face.

He hadn't recovered from his shock and the moment where it was confirmed that not only did Eames know one of the Marx Brother's most famous gags, but that Arthur wasn't quick enough to catch him at his Forgery games.

It hurt him in the most bizarre of ways- Arthur was outwitted by Eames' as _himself._

Eames noticed the slight change in Arthur's mood, nothing that was revealed in the man's face but was present in his posture (too straight, too perfect).

"It was just a little bit of fun, darling!"

Arthur shook his head and materialized his gun wanting only to leave this dreamscape before he embarrassed himself further.

One of Arthur's greatest worries was that it was all Eames wanted from him. Just a little bit of fun.

What would the man say if he knew that Arthur wanted more- that the Point Man who dealt in reports and files, police reports and wills, as well as all things found on the internet by those skilled enough at hacking, wanted to get down to the bare bones of their relationship.

That Arthur wanted to understand more about the Forger who had gotten underneath his skin, prized away his secrets, and stolen his form- not to mention his heart with such ease.

It fueled their conflict and drove them to greater heights with their ambitions.

And eventually, it would end in love.

But that wasn't until much later, unfortunately.

* * *

_P is for Prisoner_

Arthur had been kept prisoner for going on two weeks. It was by far one of the most horrible experiences of his life.

No, that was an understatement.

Arthur had been beaten, tortured, and starved.

Now he was receiving a torture that was far from physical. His keepers weren't touching him- not a single hair on his head had been harmed. Well, that was until he upset them with his silences.

It felt like they were ripping out his heart every time they mentioned those close to him.

His kidnappers had done their research well.

They knew about Dom and his dear children. They knew about Ariadne and Yusuf.

And they knew about Eames.

Arthur had stayed strong through it all, had taken so much, but when they had spoken about Eames- knowing where to find him and just how to get the Forger to try and come to save him, small cracks began to show around the edges.

"I won't tell you anything," Arthur had said, his voice raw from screams but free from begging.

He'd give them his pain but they wouldn't hear him _beg_.

Arthur existed in a realm of threats and punishments, of hope being dangled before him on a thread before it was cruelly taken away so they could salt his wounds.

And sometimes they did do just that.

These people wanted to know everything. They held an interest for Inception, but also wished to know about several other jobs that Arthur had been connected with over the years of dream work.

When Arthur held back, they would speak of how easy it would be to get this information from the others; how they would fall apart and beg and scream and cry.

How it would all be Arthur's fault for allowing them to feel such pain, all because he refused to meet their demands.

There was a quiet place that Arthur went in his head, where he couldn't be harmed, where he wasn't sleep deprived from the music they played at high volume at all hours except for their 'personal visits' to get information.

In this special place, this blissfully quiet place, Arthur wasn't hurt. He was thankful that his kidnappers hadn't graduated to burning flesh or breaking bones. In his mind, the flesh of his back didn't have the cruel marks of a whip, there were no cuts from the blades, and he wasn't covered in bruises.

If anything, Arthur was grateful that he had all of his teeth and could still see. That despite his pains and wounds he could still use his hands and feet.

He was damaged, he was hurt, but he had not been broken.

But, either way, he rested in that place in his head. He could imagine eating there. He could imagine scenarios where he was rescued. He entertained fantastically violent fantasies where every single one of his kidnapper's met their end.

He plotted while there, took what rest he could as he lay in a crumbled up heap on the ground of his cell, always waiting for the music to stop and for the sound of the door being unlocked in the sudden and fragile silence.

And then, one day, the music stopped and the door opened but no one came in immediately. It alarmed Arthur who had gotten used to their schedule and wasn't sure what to make of this eerie silence.

There was a long indrawn breath, a sob, and a broken, " _D-darling_!"

Arthur blinked open his eyes and couldn't stop the tears from falling down, trying to rise up from the ground and managing to barely get into a sitting position as every wound made it abundantly clear that he wasn't fit for action.

Eames had come for him, Eames had come to rescue him! The man's shirt was stained with the blood of his enemies but he looked to be unharmed. At the door, Arthur could hear the sounds of more people, perhaps his team, but in his weakened state he couldn't do more than press his face against the Forger's neck as he was held so gently and carefully.

There was talk of doctors, and hospitals, but the main question on everyone's lips was 'Why had this come to pass? What were they after?'

Arthur swallowed hard and spoke, his voice roughened by suffering. "They wanted everything, all of it. But I didn't let them get it. You're all safe."

At those words, Eames struggled to find a place on Arthur's body that wasn't covered in slash marks or aching wounds so he could pull the man closer without doing more harm.

"You should have just gave them what they wanted love," Eames was whispering. "Anything to have stopped this."

Arthur's fingers tightened their hold on the Forger's shoulders. He shook his head slowly and tried to rise, when he faltered, Eames carefully helped him up and allowed the Point Man to carefully drape his arm around his shoulders, leaning on him for support. If they had found a blanket, it could have covered the worst of the marks across his bare back and stave off the chill, but all present were worried about pressing anything from this place against his open wounds.

With Eames' help they walked out of the cell at a slow but steady pace. The others were scanning ahead, Dom and Yusuf leading the way with weapons still drawn cautiously, and young terrified Ariadne who couldn't stop glancing over her shoulder at the wounded Point Man.

When they exited this place, more a shack than anything else, the kind frequently featured in horror movies, Arthur had to squeeze his eyes shut from the brightness of the afternoon sun. He hadn't seen daylight in weeks, and my, he forgot how the rays could _burn._

"Eames," Arthur said as he tried to shield his eyes.

The Forger was looking at him carefully, watching for signs of sickness or fear. All he could see was relief at his freedom despite his discomfort over the sun and its rays.

"I couldn't let them have you, Eames," Arthur said, eyes still shut as they maneuvered around the rural setting towards the helicopter Saito had provided once he had learned of the predicament. "I couldn't let them have any of you or any of the secrets. I'm a vault," Arthur was murmuring to himself. "Couldn't let any of you get lost here, and never you. _Never_ you, Eames."

Eames swallowed hard at what Arthur was saying. Something that had to be half delirium and half- well, Eames couldn't say what the other half was. He could say what he hoped it was- he hoped it was the feelings that the Point Man struggled to confess before. But after everything the man had gone through, physical attraction and romance was at the very bottom of the list.

But Eames smiled so slightly at the love in Arthur's voice. He would always treasure the words ' _Never you, Eames_ ' and wait patiently for the Point Man to be healed from this nightmare and for the scars of the prisoner to fade.

* * *

_Q is for Quartet_

Arthur liked listening to classical music. He felt that there was something beautiful about a song you didn't require words to listen to and love.

The emotion and heart of the song was there in every cord and note.

He liked to listen to it when he was preparing a warehouse to act as their work area for a job, he liked to listen to it by himself because he often took to humming along with the music he was familiar with and didn't like others to spot him being so…unprofessional.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise to him that Eames, of all people should show up as Arthur was just finishing up his work, listening to an interesting CD he had come across from a popular string quartet that did nothing but play classical string versions of popular rock or alternative music.

He had never liked the band My Chemical Romance but after listening to a sample of the classical style of their music he changed his opinion and purchased it.

This was the CD playing as Eames walked in carrying a cup of tea, already nodding his head to the music.

"Never thought that you'd like this sort of thing, darling!"

Arthur turned his head quickly when he heard the other man's voice, and reached out with one hand to slap the CD player into silence, managing to hit the off button on the first try.

Smiling at Arthur's actions and the blush that stained the man's cheeks, the Forger shook his head.

"But, that one's one of my favorites," Eames said with a pout. "Hang 'Em High was like a theme song for me on one of my earlier jobs!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow and turned away, intent on getting as far away from the subject as possible. And then he gave his opinion.

"I like that one too. It reminds me of every single Western movie I've watched."

Eames' chuckled at how Arthur was obviously contradicting himself- speaking about something he would rather not speak about at all.

"It was funny really, a team member of mine wouldn't stop playing the song as I was working on my Forgery. I had to be a cowboy so it fit the situation- at least she didn't play the one about vampires or the one about murderers."

The unusual conversation about this band and their classical music ended as their other teammates entered the room.

Eames was smart enough to understand that Arthur was allowed a few secrets, no matter if he liked string quartet rock music.

* * *

_R is for Roses_

During the week leading up to Valentine's Day, Arthur received a bouquet of red roses every day without a card or mention of who sent them.

It was getting to the point that by Valentine's Day, Arthur had enough rose petals to give away for the decoration of the beds of hopeful amorous lovers. Ariadne had begun to decorate her models with the stray petals, Dom began to find them trapped in his pockets, and Eames sat in silence watching it all happen.

By lunch on Valentine's Day, it was getting crazy. The bunches of flowers with their own vases were crowded Arthur's desk and littered the floor with their petals.

Dom, already frustrated because of work and certain heavy handed hints and expressions from his Architect who would _also_ like to be given lots of pretty red roses, came to Arthur for the sake of preserving the sanity of the work place.

"Arthur?" Dom asked as he approached the man's desk.

It was a veritable jungle of red roses, but Arthur's head could still be seen popping out of the better part of an improvised flower shop. Arthur looked over at Dom and seemed to know what was coming.

"As your friend, as your team leader, and as a man prone to allergies, I beg that you just go out on a Valentine's Day date with Eames because I'm sure that the man will just keep sending you flowers if you don't."

Eames, who had been slouching in a dispirited way perked up at Dom's words.

"You, my friend aren't just getting chocolates. _You_ will also get some Claritin!"

Dom rolled his eyes as Arthur glowered at his retreating back, moving away from his desk and its sea of flowers to stop the flowery madness visited upon him by one, Mr. Eames.

"Can't you take a hint, Eames?" Arthur asked when he approached the other man, hiding his slight nervousness with his overwhelming annoyance about the situation.

The Forger shrugged a little and offered him a bright smile. "I can take many hints, darling. Lots and lots of them. And from my careful monitoring of your reactions to receiving flowers, you didn't appear to mind them all that much. In fact, I think that you were waiting for Dom to step in and insist that you act- took the pressure off of you nicely, and thusly the man get's allergy medicine _and_ candy for making this possible!"

Arthur's eyes widened briefly before narrowing in anger. Despite the sour look from his date, Eames couldn't have been happier.

"Just take me to lunch and stop rubbing it in," Arthur hissed at Eames who tried to gallantly offer his arm to the Point Man.

And since Dom had the perfect view of the door, he got to see how Arthur first smacked the Forger's offered arm away but reached for the man's hand after a moment passed, his questing fingers appearing to be hesitant but endearing as he shyly took the Forger's hand in his and exited the warehouse.

* * *

_S is for Surprise_

Arthur had to go to the hospital.

Not because he had been shot.

Not because he had gotten involved in a dangerous car chase with men that wanted to take his life because of his dream thievery.

In fact, it had absolutely nothing to do with his dangerous job and lifestyle at all!

Arthur was in the hospital because he had to get his appendix out.

The surgery went fine with no slip-ups or accidents. Arthur didn't die on the table because of, as it might be written in the reports, 'serious complications without ready explanation' which really could mean, in Arthur's line of work 'what do you mean, our new guy just _offed_ our patient and ran away while laughing maniacally?!'

But, Arthur was fine- he was on plenty of pain meds and had a television that got all the news channels so he could stay up to date!

Arthur also couldn't stop smiling, he was reasonably certain that he _might_ be a little high, but didn't care because the nurse had said that he'd get Jell-O at lunchtime. Not just any kind, the _red_ Jell-O!

So, when he received a guest, he wasn't feeling like his normal professional Point Man self.

Eames had entered the room wearing a couple of stickers on his chest that signified who he was coming to visit and what floor he had to find, because like small children, people visiting friends and relatives in the hospital needed a visible indicator of where they were meant to go so they could be herded around and made to stay out of trouble.

The Forger's eyes widened as he took in Arthur's smiling face. He also was probably scoping out the fact that Arthur was out of his lovely suits and was wearing a backless hospital gown. He was wearing another like a coat so he wasn't flashing anyone, and also, had on a rather comfortable looking bathrobe that Arthur might have very well brought from home once he knew that he was going to be trapped here for awhile.

But, it wasn't the man's attire that was making the Forger stare. It was the way that Arthur appeared so pleased to see him as he lay in his hospital bed- smiling and happy rather than cold and frowning.

Arthur seemed to notice this as well and tried, for the sake of appearances, to be like his normal self with the Forger.

After a moment of frowning in Eames direction the man had to stop because he couldn't stop the random giggling from escaping.

"Please," Arthur said warmly. "Have a seat! I'm so glad that you came to visit me, Eames!"

The Forger was kind of shocked. "Really? When Dom called to say that I was the second emergency contact for when you are hospitalized I was amazed. Why didn't Dom come to help again, darling?"

Arthur waved one hand and tried to remember. "I believe that it was something about the children. A book report- school play- recital- Parent Teacher Conference sort of thing."

Eames chuckled to himself, seeming to be amused by this type of Arthur, this 'Arthur stuck in a hospital on high levels of who knows what'. And, because Arthur had no access to hair gel, the Point Man's dark hair was loose and curled gently. Eames was possessed with the desire to pet Arthur's hair because it looked soft- but he didn't.

"Darling, do you remember what day it is today?" Eames asked instead, forcing himself not to laugh as Arthur appeared to think about it very carefully.

"It is-", Arthur thought about it some more. "It's Wednesday."

Eames nodded in agreement because yes, it was Wednesday, but there was something else that Arthur didn't seem to recall.

"And?" Eames asked, waiting for Arthur to remember why this day was so important.

"I know!" Arthur said, and Eames looked almost in love with the look of excited pleasure on the Point Man's face. "Today," Arthur announced with great importance, "Is the day we get to have the _red_ Jell-O at lunchtime!"

Arthur watched Eames face, how the man was holding back laughter, or maybe he was just as happy to hear about the red Jell-O too?

"Oh lord, I wish I thought to start recording you when I came in! While I think that red Jell-O is pretty amazing too, I thought that you should know that while today is Wednesday and red Jell-O day, it's also your birthday. Surprise, Arthur!"

Arthur nodded and smiled, saying in a conspiratorial way, "Hey, do you want to see my scar from where they took my appendix out?"

While it was off topic from the subject of his birthday, Eames had to fight against agreeing to the man's offer.

Eames swallowed down his amusement as he recalled the hospital gowns the Point Man was wearing and how Arthur _might_ not have on any underwear. As Arthur began to try and peel off his robe Eames coughed and said, "How about you show me when you get out of the hospital, darling? After you get out of here you can do whatever you want and I'll be able to give you your birthday gift!"

At that moment, the nurse came in with Arthur's lunch and after a brief word from Eames; two other nurses, a tired doctor, and a janitor stood with Eames as they sang 'Happy Birthday' to the Point Man.

There were no candles to blow out, but Arthur didn't seem to be worried about it.

Arthur was kind enough to split his Jell-O with Eames so they could celebrate together.

"Best birthday ever," Arthur said later as he was sinking into an afternoon nap with Eames sitting close by reading a magazine.

* * *

_T is for Talent_

Arthur was a man of many talents. He could do many different tasks and do them well. As a Point Man, his talent was damn near legendary in the business!

But there were some talents that Arthur wasn't so proud of.

Eames was very very good and discovering these little things about Arthur. One day, he had made it a point to mention it.

Thank god they were _alone_.

"Tap dancing, darling? You know how to tap dance?"

Arthur sighed and tried so very hard to ignore the Forger.

It never really worked, but then, he couldn't complain as much as he wanted to if he hadn't had made the _effort_ at ignoring him.

"I was a kid, Eames! My mother made all of my siblings do something with their time- we all took dance lessons, played instruments, and joined clubs at our schools."

Eames, always happy to know more about his Point Man perked up as they sat at a desk together in the quiet of the warehouse.

"Come on, love. Tell me about it!"

Arthur bit his lip and finally decided that if there was anyone he could trust with this information in the world of dreamshare, it was Eames.

"Fine," Arthur said, sitting in his chair with his perfect posture, taking a deep breath and reciting it for Eames. "I learned tap and some waltzing. I can play the piano and speak two other languages… or three and a half if you count the ones where I know all of the swears. Tried out archery and was on the soccer team in high school."

Eames was nodding appreciatively at Arthur's history when the Point Man smirked.

"Okay, now you."

Eames looked surprised at first before shaking his head. "Nope, closed book. I don't reveal my past for anything!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Mr. Eames I just told you that I took up tap dancing when I was younger- I actually won awards for it. So, I demand as the man that shares your bed to know at least one little thing you used to do before you got involved in dreamwork."

As Eames dithered, Arthur made it a point to mouth the words ' _damned tap dancing'_ at him.

Finally, some bridge appeared to be crossed and Eames shook his head.

"You are under strict confidence, alright? You can't tell anyone!"

Arthur raised his hand and saluted like a good Boy Scout. It only made Eames shake his head again and mutter, 'Like that's a big surprise.'

"Flower arranging."

The Point Man maintained a straight face for one whole minute and was so proud that he hadn't cracked at thirty seconds like he wanted to.

As Arthur laughed Eames crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

"It was one of the only courses available at my school Arthur! I couldn't even get into Auto shop- I got to take Home Economics with the girls." Eames was silent for a moment lost in the memory. "Even though I could change the oil and fix the flats on their cars, the girls didn't like me because I made a better cheesecake than they did."

Arthur smiled to himself as Eames recited other activities aside from baking and arranging flowers- Eames had also been involved in drama clubs, worked on a debate team, practiced bartending, and learned a great deal about psychology before dropping out of college.

All of these little things, though embarrassing to themselves, provided a glimpse into how they had become the men they were today. What influenced them; what were their failures, their lost hopes, the dreams that weren't fulfilled, while other aspirations were taken up in their place?

Arthur wanted to know more but was certain that Eames would have conditions before he said anything more.

"If you promise not to laugh at me I can show you what I vaguely remember from my tap dancing days- but, I'd say that it would be best for me to try and fail in reality than with the PASIV."

Eames looked very interested now. "Why?"

The Point Man shrugged. "Do you ever remember having those dreams where you are so scared about failing a test you realize that you're naked?"

Eames' eyes widened before a devilish smirk appeared on his face. "I'll trade you a pop psychology loving bartender that can arrange a vase of flowers while mixing a drink and reciting Shakespeare for a single performance of Naked Tap Dancing!"

Arthur frowned in thought. "I'm keeping my underwear on, thank you, and that's about as much Naked Tap Dancing as you'll get until it's over," Arthur blushed, no doubt thinking about the problems found in energetic tap dancing without underwear on.

Eames leaned forwards over the table and grinned. "I'm sure that we could _debate it_ , darling."

"It depends," Arthur said in a lofty tone of voice, still blushing. "What drink are you going to serve me to change my mind?"

"How about a little 'Screaming Sex with the Bartender'?" Eames drawled, winking at the Point Man whose mouth had dropped open.

The match was won by Eames as Arthur stood and yanked the Forger to him by the man's shirt collar. "Take me home- we're going to have to use the PASIV anyway because I don't have the shoes for this anymore!"

The kiss they shared was very brief but sensual. It was a kiss that promised more and Eames had to take several deep breaths when it was over.

"Yes sir," Eames replied allowing Arthur to take his hand and tug him out of the warehouse and towards his apartment so the fun and games could begin.

* * *

_U is for Umbrella_

When Arthur finally closed up the warehouse and left for the evening after working later than the others, he stepped outside to find that the skies had opened up in torrents of freezing cold rain.

And the Point Man was without an umbrella today.

Cursing as the water drenched him immediately, soaking through his expensive coat and suit, Arthur pulled out the newspaper he hadn't had the time to read today and held it over his head to protect himself from the falling water.

He could feel the droplets sneak their way down his buttoned shirt collar and slide down his back, making him shiver. He forced himself to walk quickly, splashing in puddles as he tried to think of a better way to stay dry.

Arthur called himself stupid for having not checked the weather reports before leaving the hotel today. His mind had been other places and distracted by more important questions. 'Should I grab an umbrella?' was beaten by 'How do I get to the mark and hook him up to the PASIV if the man's schedule is so tight? Can I buy off his dentist so we can do the Extraction during the man's appointment for a few cavities?'

Arthur had been too busy to notice that the others had brought umbrellas and too wrapped up in his work to care how late it was getting.

The hotel wasn't too far away, maybe a block or two, but in such back weather, Arthur was already cursing over more than his clothes. He was hugging his laptop case to his chest, hiding in a doorway to shield himself from most of the rain, having given up on the soggy newspaper after he had been walking with it for ten minutes or so.

Not liking it one bit, Arthur stripped off his wet coat and wrapped it around his laptop case, wagering that it was safer with the coat than without it- he didn't care about his own comfort at this point and only wanted to get to his room so he could take the longest hottest shower imaginable.

Each exhaled breath was visible in the air, and Arthur was keeping his face down to try and spare himself the blurred vision from getting water in his eyes.

It was a wonder that he didn't knock Eames down when he walked right into him on the sidewalk.

Arthur hadn't been aware that he was trembling until he smacked into the solid warmth of the Forger's body.

Eames had wrapped one arm around Arthur's back to hold him close while his other hand was holding the large umbrella up over their heads and shielding them from the rain.

" _Darling_!" Eames said in surprise. "I was coming to find you- I was going to walk you to the hotel because I was pretty sure that you didn't have an umbrella with you today- or, I hadn't seen one, at least."

Eames was rambling, and Arthur was only half paying attention because he couldn't stop thoughts of wrapping himself up in Eames- my god, the man was like a walking space-heater!

"Thanks," Arthur managed to say. "As much as I'd like to keep pressing myself up against you, Eames, can we please go back to the hotel now? I have to see if my laptop is okay. I have to get rid of my suit," Arthur was thinking of the mess he had made through his carelessness.

And if he were paying attention to Eames, he might have noticed that Eames was wearing a smile warm enough to melt icebergs- that one 'thank you' from Arthur, the mentions of how much he liked being held up against him, and of course, how the man wanted to _take his clothes off once he got to the hotel_.

But, Arthur was focused on his cold feet, and how the water had loosened up the gel in his hair making the damp locks begin to do as they would naturally, which was gently curl.

When Arthur caught Eames giving him such a dumbstruck but happy look, Arthur believed that it was because of the hair.

"Yes, Eames my hair tries to _curl when it doesn't have gel in it_! Please start walking me back so I can take a shower and get warm again?"

"As long as I can join you, darling," was Eames' flirty reply.

At first, Arthur wasn't sure if he heard the man right. But then, after a moment, Arthur looked amazed.

"It should stand to reason that the day I have the worst luck, you have the best. The rain has taken away my reason- or its worn it away. Yes, Mr. Eames you are joining me!"

As they walked away towards the hotel, huddling under the same umbrella, Arthur could have sworn that Eames was happily humming 'Singing in the Rain'.

* * *

_V is for Voodoo_

It was Christmas and Arthur had just opened up Eames' present.

It was an exchange of gifts between team members and when the others saw that Eames had gotten Arthur a voodoo doll, laughter was had by all.

Arthur ignored them and raised an eyebrow at the little doll he had plucked out of its box. What he noticed first was that it was wearing a piece of ugly paisley fabric that had obviously come from one of the Forger's shirts. If there was a lock of hair on it, Arthur couldn't find it. Either way, Arthur looked up at Eames with disdain.

"Honestly? You gave me a voodoo doll that stands for _you for Christmas?"_

The Forger shrugged helplessly. "What better gift to give you than myself, darling? And I love the voodoo that you do-do," Eames said, earning laughter from Ariadne because of the silly joke.

Inside the box was a needle, very delicate and straight with a black bead on the end to make it easier to hold onto.

Arthur smirked at Eames and plucked up the pin.

"Not your best idea, Mr. Eames," the Point Man said before driving the pin into the doll's left shoulder.

"Bloody hell, _ouch_!" Eames said with wide eyes, his hand going to rest on his left shoulder and massaging it gently.

The room had gone silent. In a world where they could plant ideas into the minds of dreamers as well as build and destroy worlds in dreams, all had the same thought- if we can do what we do with dreams, who says voodoo isn't real?

But after a moment of watching Eames and noticing the twinkle of humor in his eyes, Arthur dropped the doll with the pin still sticking out of its shoulder and walked away. Eames was smirking at the Point Man's back, no longer massaging his shoulder.

As he was leaving he could hear Eames call out to him, "Come on, love. Don't you want to kiss it better?"

* * *

_W is for Whistle_

There were rules for Eames and his whistling.

Eames was free to whistle during the preparation of meals.

He could whistle as he cleaned too, mopping floors and sweeping as he whistled the tune of 'Jolly Holiday'.

Eames could whistle to get a person's attention on the street or to hail a cab and to stop a bus before it speed away.

But Arthur had instituted an important rule that encompassed their time together in private or the time in public.

The first time it happened, Arthur and dropped something on the ground and rather than crouch, he had bent at the waist to reach for the papers.

Silly, really. Arthur had thought he was alone and hadn't put much thought about _how_ he was going to get the papers he dropped. He hadn't been thinking immediately of hurting his back.

When he had heard the door open and close, the sounds of footsteps stopped, and there was a breathy chuckle.

Then, there was the whistle that forced Arthur to snap himself back into a position where he was standing up straight and not presenting his rear end to the room.

Eames just _had_ to come in at that moment.

"But," Eames said in an upset tone of voice, "Arthur, that's such a lovely view!"

Arthur had turned to face the Forger, blushing a deep crimson at the other man's words. It didn't matter that they were together. They were also at work and he didn't want Eames to make any comments however complimentary they may seem while they were there.

It ceased to be a compliment when it was directed at his butt…sort of.

"Arthur? What's made you blush so hard?" Ariadne asked as she came into the warehouse, smiling at the way his eyes widened before looking away from her in embarrassment.

"It's alright, Ariadne," Eames said, nodding in Arthur's direction. "I just embarrassed Arthur by giving him a compliment!"

The young Architect looked very interested now and spotted Dom coming through the door. She waved at him to get the Extractor's attention.

"Dom! Okay, tell me- you've known Arthur the longest aside from Eames. What could Eames have said to make Arthur blush this much? Eames said that it was a compliment."

Dom looked Arthur over, looked at the smug Eames, and then back at Ariadne.

"I really, truly, and honestly do not want to know."

Eames laughed at the Extractor's words, clapping his hands in delight. "This is going to be great!" he said. He turned to Ariadne and said, "If you really want to know, I whistled when Arthur bent over!"

"Eames, I'm going to kill you!" Arthur growled. And then, after a moment, he noticed that Ariadne had changed her position so that she was standing in the perfect spot to stare at his butt.

The blushing only intensified as she giggled and said, "I can understand the compliment. It's lovely, Arthur. There are guys with terribly flat butts out there, but you are a lucky man! A girl likes something to hold onto," and then she freaking _winked at him_!

Arthur had never been more mortified. It seemed that Dom was right there with him, but as Arthur sent a pleading look in his direction, the man raised his hands up in surrender.

"I am so not touching this!"

"That's right," Eames said with a possessive grin. "Arthur is mine. And I reserve the right to whistle at him if I should so please."

What followed was the longest recorded period of time that Eames was banned from Arthur's bed. Soon after the rules were instituted and Eames learned that while it was okay to admire Arthur's body, he shouldn't make it a topic of conversation while at work.

Arthur still flinched when he heard a whistle and took more time than he'd like to admit to go back to making eye contact with Dom.

He _also_ still refused to show Ariadne his back.

* * *

_X is for X-ray_

"You," Eames said as he was curled up on the floor and staring at Arthur in shock. "You actually _broke_ me! I can't believe it!"

Arthur was kneeling down on the floor next to the Forger and still couldn't stop thinking about how this little farce had occurred.

They had officially moved in together- Eames had taken a few of his tasteful bits of furniture- like the old fashioned wooden bookcase and the chocolate brown leather ottoman and moved them in. Once that was finished and Eames' bags thrown onto Arthur's couch, the Forger had smirked at him and said- "Like to carry me across the threshold, darling?"

Arthur had immediately burst into laughter at the mental image alone. Though they were close to the same height the differences in their builds made it seem funny.

A wiry delicate looking man in a suit carrying a well muscled man wearing a terrible shirt into the apartment…when Arthur stopped laughing, he realized that he had just offended the Forger.

Eames appeared to be hurt at the mockery and if Arthur was anything, he was a soft touch for making Eames feel better.

And even if he himself thought that it was stupid, Arthur shook his head and squeezed the man's shoulder.

"If you don't wrap your arm around my shoulders right now, you'll fall on your ass when I try to lift you!"

And, he did anyway.

It was so stupid. So horribly unfortunate.

Arthur had lifted Eames' just fine and both of them couldn't stop laughing as they did something so silly- it wasn't like they had gotten _married_ or anything.

But they were starting a new part of their relationship together, and Eames was supremely sentimental at heart- and then, Arthur felt his foot get caught on the rug near the front of the door and sent Eames falling out of his arms and crashing down onto the floor.

And through the noise, the loud popping sound had still been evident.

The reverberations from the Forger's impact felt ridiculously strong, but Arthur seemed to be more affected by the other man's hurt expression.

Arthur had fallen as well, landing on his knees hard, but as he tried to gingerly crawl closer it only grew more apparent that Eames was in serious pain.

The Forger's face was bone white, and while the orange and green shirt had clashed before, it seemed worse now that Eames was so terribly pale.

"You broke me," the man said again, trying and failing to move.

"No," Arthur said, laying a hand against the Forger's arm trying to offer comfort and make him be still. "I tripped. It was just an accident and we are going to get you to a doctor right now- from the sound of it, you just hurt your back but I'll feel better once you get an x-ray done."

The Forger panted in pain, glaring at the Point Man. "Oh, dear lord I don't think I have ever been more mad at you, darling! Next time, _I_ will do the carrying and you know that I would never do anything as terrible as _dropping you_!"

He groaned in pain as a muscle in his back began to twinge.

"Though I really should return the favor!"

Arthur had laughed weakly at Eames' words.

To make the story a short one, they did get to the hospital after making an embarrassing call to Dom.

An x-ray was taken, a proscription for pain pills given, and Eames was forced to spend weeks laying in bed hating the world and watching daytime television.

But, the man did get better, and true to his word he did end up carrying Arthur safely across the threshold of their apartment many years later after rings had been exchanged and promises given.

It should be known that Arthur promised to 'Never to drop Eames again,' and Eames had promised to 'Never to suggest anything as sentimental as being carried over the threshold if he valued his back.'

Both promises were kept.

* * *

_Y is for Yarn_

Over the years, Arthur learned many strange facts about Eames.

Like, before Eames had ever heard of dream work he had been training to become a chef- and now because of the man's change of heart Arthur got to enjoy wonderful chef quality meals from his Forger.

He learned that Eames didn't actually like paisley. He just wore it to annoy Arthur- so despite it being a mission accomplished, he still wore the stuff out of habit. That and he said that on a job hardly anyone paid attention to how bad he was dressed when they zeroed in on Arthur's lovely suits.

Arthur learned that Eames always sent money to distant relatives that hardly remembered him except for old and faded photographs, and tried to visit his elderly grandmother once a year for her birthday.

Most times after one of those visits to his grandmother, Eames would come back and start working on these little projects.

Once, Eames would have been secretive about it, but finally felt comfortable enough with Arthur to let him know what the projects he worked on were.

Arthur had been presented with a large box full of brightly colored yarn, spools of thread, sewing and knitting needles, and crochet hooks.

After Arthur had stopped staring that the tools, Eames showed Arthur what he had made so far.

In another box there were knitted scarves, mittens, socks, and little hats that seemed to be perfect for winter. Eames was in the middle of making a sweater.

"You know how to make these things?" Arthur had said in amazement. Eames shrugged and looked a little embarrassed.

"When I was a boy my grandmother liked to keep my hands busy- I was always getting into the things I shouldn't, you know. She made me help her cord the yarn, and after awhile I'd sit and help her make things when her arthritis got to hurting her too badly."

Arthur thought about it. "You go to visit her every year and each time you come back you start working on these?"

Eames nodded. "She still gets the requests to make things for the family and really can't manage it any more. So, she writes me a letter and tells me what they want, gives me the measurements, suggests colors, and lets me work on it. When it comes time for her birthday, I bring all of the completed projects so she can hand them out."

Arthur blinked and picked up one of the scarves to look at it more closely. It was clear that a lot of time and love had gone into it, and when Arthur put it back, he did so gently.

"How long have you been doing this, Eames?"

And, unspoken was Arthur's thought of 'Didn't you tell me that your grandmother was ill?'

Eames sighed and looked at all of the little things he had made in his grandmother's name.

"I've been doing this for years, darling. I don't see my family all that often anymore except for the one day spent with my grandmother. Somehow, it makes me feel better to send these things on, like it offers a tangible sort of connection between us, never mind that they didn't know I made it at all. I think that my grandmother knows that, well, she knows that the end is near for her."

Not knowing exactly what to do, Arthur tried something that he thought _he_ would like to experience if their roles were switched and he was facing the impending death of a loved one. Arthur moved around the boxes of supplies and the finished projects and pulled Eames into a hug.

The Forger sniffled a little and rested his chin on Arthur's shoulder. "It's hard," Eames said against the Point Man's neck, "I have to stop myself from thinking that I'll go back next year to give her the finished projects or get one of her letters. It's been a constant in my life and she's one of the last people that care."

Arthur tried to laugh and said, "Now, come on. Don't try to insult me- _I_ care, though I'm sure that it's a different kind of caring when it's your grandmother…what would you say if I helped you out with these projects of yours? Maybe we can finish them faster and then you could visit her sooner than usual, like a surprise or an early birthday gift."

When Eames pulled away he was smiling again and that tight feeling around Arthur's heart diminished at the sight.

"Really, darling? You would do that?"

Eames' smile only grew when Arthur nodded in agreement.

"I'm a man of my word, Eames. Set me to work and we'll see what we can do!"

That earned Arthur a loving kiss that was followed by Eames pulling away to search for a list written on a piece of unfamiliar stationary. The handwriting was spaced out evenly and was easy to read- there were numbers and sizes, colors, and designs in neat rows with the name of the one the gift was intended for.

"So far, I've got to finish that sweater, work on some mittens for one cousin or another's little girls, and make at least three-," Eames frowned and checked the list, "-no, make that four scarves."

Arthur smiled at Eames and nodded. He had no idea what to do, but if Eames had been doing this type of work for so many years, it was possible that the man could teach him a little as they went along.

Before they started though, Eames demanded that Arthur stay exactly where he was and not move an inch.

Arthur did as he was asked, but looked after Eames in amused curiosity as the man rushed from the living from where he had dragged his boxes and tools to go to their bedroom.

After a moment, the Forger returned and held a white box out to Arthur. After a moment Eames sat down next to Arthur on the couch, positively itching with excitement as he waited for Arthur to open it.

Arthur flipped it open and saw a neatly folded scarf- it was a charcoal gray color and when Arthur ran his fingers across it, he thought that it felt too soft to be made of wool.

He plucked it out of the box and unfolded it, noticing as he did so that there had been a design picked out in red on the end. It made Arthur smile to see that his scarf had been personalized with a small red die sitting on the corner.

Arthur looked up from the scarf to see that Eames was watching his reaction to the gift and seemed to be a little bit nervous.

"Do you like it?" Eames asked quietly.

The Point Man laughed aloud and put it on immediately, pulling it around his neck and folding it so the red die design was in view just above his heart.

"Do I like it, Eames?" Arthur asked in response. "I love it!"

Eames was very pleased by his answer and shrugged in response. "I was going to give it to you for Christmas. I know that its a few weeks early, but I couldn't wait to give it to you since you're already going to be helping me with all of this work!"

Arthur smiled and shook his head, "If you'd like I can give you your present now too. Let me just go and grab it!"

A hand on his shoulder stopped him and Arthur was made to sit down once more on the couch.

"As far as you're concerned, darling that's not necessary. You've given me the best gift of all by offering to help." For a short moment, there was something very melancholy about Eames' expression before he was touched by a spark of optimism. "If we get this done in good time, you might get to meet my grandmother, too!"

Arthur was pleased by the idea, having long held the wish to do something so natural- something so normal as to meet a person from Eames' family.

"Okay, darling! First lesson I ever learned will be yours as well." Eames laughed and showed Arthur how to hold his hands while he searched for the yarn in need of cording.

The sensation of having the string of yarn twisted and pulled about his hands was strange, but listening to Eames talk about his childhood, about his grandmother while he did so was worth it.

"-You see when I was a boy and I first had to do this, I was certain that she was going to wrap me in yarn from head to toe- and do you know what she told me when I asked her?"

Arthur shook his head.

Eames smiled as he recalled the memory. "Oh, my grandmother told me that it wouldn't make any sense to wrap such a big boy in yarn! She said 'Oh darling, wherever would I get a box big enough to store you in to protect you from all the _moths_?'"

Eames went on to tell Arthur another story featuring his grandmother, and then another, and by the time that was done, the yarn had been corded and Eames was willing to show Arthur what he was doing with that sweater and talk about who it was for.

The stories kept coming until the hour grew late and both men had to put everything away.

Like usual, once Arthur believed he knew everything he could about Eames, he discovered that he was wrong. That there was just another layer underneath much like the coils on a spool of yarn or thread.

And Arthur was nowhere near the end of it yet.

* * *

_Z is for Zero_

Arthur had always been of the opinion that Eames was something of a…oh, what was a good word for it?

Eames was gay, so he wasn't a ladies' man.

So, he was a gentlemen's man. No, that didn't roll off the tongue very well either.

The point was the Eames looked like he got around, spent a substantial amount of time in other people's beds, and was very attractive.

To be honest, it was something that intimidated Arthur a bit whenever he thought of the Forger and what he would like to do with him.

Arthur wanted a relationship.

While meaningless sex had its good points, Arthur didn't want that.

He _liked_ the idea of waking up next to someone he cared about! He loved the thought of having stupid personal jokes!

Arthur wanted to create all sorts of 'firsts' and make a bunch of random things 'theirs'.

Arthur wanted first kisses, first times, first dates, and even first fights.

The Point Man liked the idea of finding a restaurant that no one they knew went to, and then, make it a routine to go there each week for breakfast or something _together_.

And as the Forger flirted more and more, Arthur became more certain that it was just something that the man did. That it was a part of his genetic make-up and was a dominant trait passed on down in his family tree.

After another such experience of Eames flirting with Arthur, the Point Man finally broke.

"Eames, I don't understand. I really don't!"

The Forger had been about to take a drink and instead held the glass to his lips without even sipping as he tried to understand what Arthur was on about.

"Why do you keep flirting with me if you have so many other people you can go to?" Arthur asked, watching Eames blink in surprise and finally set the glass on the table they were sitting at.

"Come again, darling?" Eames said, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur looked around carefully. There were plenty of people in the bar- Arthur should have known not to come into a bar with the Forger. He attracted drunks like flowers attracted nectar seeking bees.

"Eames, you flirt with anything that has a _pulse._ I've seen you do it! Every time I come close to just dropping down my stupid barriers and giving up the façade of not liking you even though _nothing_ could be farther from the truth,you rush off to make another conquest!"

This startled a laugh from the Forger and Arthur's face turned to stone.

"Yeah, go ahead and laugh, Eames. That's right. Is everything a joke to you or is it just me?"

Eames was waved his hands as if he could physically stop Arthur's train of thought, and force the man's opinion back to something safer and less hurtful.

"Arthur, first we need to get one thing straight. I don't make conquests, love! And as to flirting with everything that has a pulse," Eames nodded, "Sure, I do that, but its meaningless flirting. It's just a way of speaking that I adopted a very long time ago."

Arthur's eyes narrowed at the man's words. "Are you honestly trying to tell me that you don't sleep with the people that just _flock_ to you?"

Eames actually blushed and smiled. "This is just so embarrassing," he confided as he hung his head over his still untouched drink. "This is one huge misunderstanding. Arthur, just ask me how many people I've slept with this year."

Arthur licked his lips feeling the trembling fear try to rise up in him. It was the question he both wanted to know and never hear at all. It was one thing to believe that the man you loved was so free with his affections in the bedroom and another to have the guy just give you an exact number.

It would haunt him. He was sure of it. It would be the number that appeared everywhere after this moment was passed. It would disturb their working relationship and ever after this moment passed Arthur would forever be doing the math, figuring the number of hands that had navigated the Forger's body, how many mouths the man had treated to kisses, and on and on and on.

Arthur was yanked from his spiral of depressing phantom figures by the clearing of a throat.

The Point Man looked at Eames who was watching him so carefully as if for a sign. Arthur nodded once and Eames said one word that rocked his world.

"Zero."

Arthur frowned, sure that he had heard the man wrong. There was no way that it could be zero.

"I know," Eames said sadly, "It's hard to believe but, I've got only one person in mind for that. There's only one person that I want and no one else will do!"

When Arthur still said nothing, Eames continued to speak. "See, you asked me why I keep flirting with you, darling. I'd think that it would be obvious at this point but I'll add it up for you."

Eames took a sip of his drink first. "I haven't had sex in a year because I have one person in mind. Also, I keep persistently flirting with _you._ "

Arthur's eyes widened and for a moment everything fell together- a cascade information and moments in time and now had new meaning and greater significance as he was rearranged.

"It's me," Arthur said after a second spent locking eyes with Eames and feeling a smile growing across his face. "I-"Arthur couldn't help himself from laughing aloud at his idiocy. "I'm so dense! I'm your number one person!"

Eames was nodding his agreement, laughing as well because it had taken the Point Man long enough. But, then, Eames had always been sure that he was well worth the wait.

"Yes, darling. You're my number one guy. So why don't you come over to my side of the table and let me kiss you like a fool?"

"Dear god, _please_ ," Arthur begged before hopping out of his chair and pouncing on the still seated Forger.


End file.
